PAUL   VERLAINE 


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PAUL   VERLAINE 


HIS    LIFE— HIS    WORK 


BY 

EDMOND    LEPELLETIER 

TRANSLATED  BY  E.   M.   LANG 


ILLUSTRATED 


LONDON 

T.  WERNER  LAURIE 

CLIFFORD'S   INN,    FLEET   STREET 


\ 


L 


INTRODUCTORY   NOTE 

PAUL  VERLAINE,  in  one  of  the  most  critical  hours 
of  his  troubled  existence,  a  prey  to  melancholy, 
only  too  well  justified,  isolated,  forgotten,  or 
remembered  by  comrades  and  contemporaries  only 
to  be  contemned,  calumniated,  and  disowned,  wrote 
from  his  cell  in  the  prison  at  Mons  on  the  margin 
of  a  letter  addressed  to  his  mother  this  despairing 
appeal  to  the  one  whom  he  knew  to  be  always 
his  friend  : 

" .  .  .  Let  Lepelletier  defend  my  reputation. 
He  is  able  to  clear  what  will  soon  be  my  memory. 
I  rely  upon  him  to  make  me  known  as  I  was  in 
reality,  when  I  am  no  longer  here.  ..." 

EDMOND    LEPELLETIER. 

BOUGIVAL. 


328027 


TRANSLATOR'S   NOTE. 

It   has   been    found   necessary,  for   purposes   of  space, 
to  abridge  a  few  passages  in  this  volume. 


CONTENTS 


CHAP.  PAGE 

INTRODUCTORY  NOTE  .          .          .          ....  v 

I.   THE  LEGEND  OF  PAUL  VERLAINE        .        \.          .          .  I 

II.  CHILDHOOD— THE    PARENTS    OF    PAUL    VERLAINE— 

SCHOOL  DAYS      .          .          .          .          ...*..  19 

III.  YOUTH  —  COUNTRY    PLEASURES  —  FIRST     POETICAL 

ESSAYS 45 

IV.  VERLAINE  THE  CLERK— SENTRY  DUTY  ON  THE  RAM- 

PARTS—THE  COMMUNE— DOMESTIC    LIFE    IN   THE 

RUE  NICOLET     .          .          .         '.'•'.          t          .          .  74 

V.  LITERARY  BEGINNINGS  —  THE  SALON  OF  THE 
MARQUISE  DE  RICARD— THE  POEMES  SA  TURNIENS 
—THE  FETES  GALANTES  .  .  .  .  .  105 

VI.  AT     NINA'S— THE  CONTEMPORARY  PARNASSUS  .  138 

VII.   MARRIAGE— LA  BONNE  CHANSON       .          .          .  .  176 

VIII.   THE  RUPTURE— ARTHUR   RIMBAUD     .          .          .  2o8 

IX.  TRAVELS— LONDON  SKETCHES    .          .          .          .  .  232 

X.  IN  THE  NORTH— ATTEMPTS  AT  RECONCILIATION- 
PLANS  FOR  WORK 266 

XI.  THE  TRIAL— CONDEMNED 280 

XII.   IN      PRISON  —  MES     PRISONS  —  ROMANCES     SANS 

PAROLES '    .          .  298 

XIII.  VERLAINE  A  SCHOOLMASTER  IN  ENGLAND  AND 
IN  FRANCE  —  LUCIEN  LETINOIS  —  VERLAINE  A 
FARMER 33s 

ix 


x  CONTENTS 

CHAP.  PAGE 

XIV.  RETURN  TO  PARIS  AND  THE  LITERARY  WORLD— 
SAGESSE — LES  POETES  MA  UDITS — LES  MEMOIRES 
LTVN  VEUF 362 

XV.   A    SECOND    ATTEMPT    AT    FARMING— THE    VOUZIERS 

AFFAIR — FINAL  RETURN  TO  PARIS  .          .          .  387 

XVI.  JAD1S  ET  NAGUERE—  IN     HOSPITAL  —  DEATH     OF 

VERLAINE'S  MOTHER— MES  ndpiTAux— AMOUR— 

PARALLELEMEWr—AlX-LRS-BAlXS  .  .  .  404 

XVII.  LAST  YEARS— EUGENIE  KRANTZ— DEATH  IN  THE 
RUE  DESCARTES— FUNERAL— A  MONUMENT  TO 
PAUL  VERLAINE 432 

INDEX 457 


EDMOND    LEPELLETIER. 
Deputd  de  Paris. 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAUL  VERLAINE  (from  a  Drawing  by  CAZALS)    .        .  Frontispiece 

EDMOND  LEPELLETIER  (Deputd  de  Paris)    .        .        .  To  face  p.       x 

PAUL  VERLAINE'S  MOTHER „  18 

PAUL  VERLAINE  (aged  2  years) „  44 

PAUL  VERLAINE  (Territorial,  1879)  „  72 

PAUL  VERLAINE  (at  22,  when  clerk  at  the  H6tel-de- 

Ville) „  72 

GEORGES  VERLAINE  (son  of  the  Poet)  „  208 

PAUL  VERLAINE  (at  the  Cafe  Francois,  Quartier  Latin, 

1889) „  404 

PAUL  VERLAINE  at  the  Hospital  (from  a  Drawing 

by  CAZALS) „  418 

GEORGES  VERLAINE  and  his  Friends  „  422 


$tAu**£'&e^f£'$*-?> 


PAUL    VERLAINE 


CHAPTER    I 

THE  LEGEND  OF  PAUL  VERLAINE 

IT  was  at  the  Lyce*e  Bonaparte,  formerly  known 
as  Bourbon,  later  as  Fontanes,  which  is  now  under 
the  republican  patronage  of  the  Marquis  de 
Condorcet,  that  my  friendship  with  Paul  Verlaine 
began  ;  it  lasted  without  a  single  break  for  thirty- 
six  years,  from  1860  until  the  fatal  9th  of  January 
1896.  I  was  concerned  in  the  most  decisive  events 
of  his  troublous  career ;  and  although  we  were 
separated  for  various  periods  by  the  exigencies  of 
life  I  never  lost  touch  nor  ceased  to  correspond 
with  him.  His  real  confidences  were  for  my  ear 
alone.  It  is  true  the  poor  fellow  loved  open  con- 
fession, to  pour  out  his  heart  in  prose  and  verse. 
A  table  in  a  cafe  would  serve  him  as  confessional, 
and  there  to  any  chance  acquaintance  he  would 
reveal  what  appeared  to  be  the  inmost  secrets  of 
his  soul  in  long,  long  talks  far  into  the  night — 
particularly  during  his  later  years.  But,  as  a 
matter  of  fact,  these  statements  of  his  about  himself 
were  mostly  exaggerations.  He  would  accuse, 
judge,  and  condemn  himself  with  naive  humility 


2  PAUL   VERLAINE 

and  unnecessary  frankness.  Seldom  did  he  make 
excuses,  and  never  did  he  cast  the  responsibility 
for  his  misdeeds  on  other  shoulders  save  in  the 
case  of  the  woman,  whom  in  one  breath  he  would 
curse  and  regret,  that  Delilah  who  had  delivered 
him  over,  helpless,  unarmed,  unready,  to  vice  and 
temptation.  In  such  moments  of  excitement,  when 
the  sting  of  his  secret  sorrow  grew  unbearable,  he 
would  lash  himself  into  a  passion  of  self-condemna- 
tion that  was  only  half  genuine.  These  confessions, 
begun  in  the  flaring  gaslight  of  the  Cafe  Rouge 
or  Frangois  Premier,  continued  into  the  grey  light 
of  dawn,  and  not  ended  till  a  final  halt  was  made 
at  some  wine-shop  just  taking  down  its  shutters, 
were  doubtless  partly  for  effect  whether  his  listeners 
were  sceptics  or  so-called  disciples. 

Verlaine  was  gifted  with  the  romantic  tempera- 
ment. Victor  Hugo,  Calderon,  Petrus  Borel,  and 
Barbey  d'Aurevilly  were  the  literary  influences 
of  his  most  impressionable  years.  Gongora  he 
admired  to  the  extent  of  desiring  to  translate  him, 
but  the  elements  of  Spanish  grammar  proved  a 
stumbling  -  block ;  contact  with  this  exuberant 
genius,  however,  fostered  in  him  a  tendency  to 
exaggeration  and  reckless  bravado.  His  religious 
emotions,  which  were  little  more  than  a  pose,  for 
Verlaine's  faith  was  more  theoretical  than  practical, 
were  the  result  of  the  deep  draughts  he  had  drunk 
from  the  intoxicating  founts  of  romanticism  ;  and 
the  avowals  he  made  in  those  wanderings  of  his 
among  the  drinking-shops  of  the  Quartier  Latin, 
punctuated  by  the  tap  of  his  stick  on  resounding 
pavements,  across  piles  of  saucers  on  stained 
marble-topped  tables,  or  in  the  precious  pages  of 


THE  LEGEND  OF  PAUL  VERLAINE     3 

delightful  but  fictitious  autobiography,  must  be 
accepted  not  without  reservation,  and  largely  dis- 
counted. The  confession  is  often  objective  and 
the  fault  imaginary.  Fancy  played  a  large  part 
in  these  outpourings  of  his.  There  was  something 
of  the  playhouse  in  this  pose  of  Verlaine's,  not 
that  he  wished  to  create  a  sensation,  his  taste  was 
too  good  for  that,  but  he  enjoyed  the  dramatic 
effect  of  himself  as  a  past  master  of  vice,  a  St 
Augustine  of  the  wine-shop,  who  did  not  lack  a 
St  Monica,  for  he  frequently  invoked  the  name 
of  his  good  and  pious  mother. 

Thus  a  legend  grew  up  around  him  ;  all  the  more 
persistent  and  enduring  from  the  fact  that  Verlaine 
himself  was  largely  its  author,  and  dug  the  grave  of  his 
own  reputation.  His  disciples  widely  disseminated 
the  gospel  of  depravity  it  amused  him  to  preach  ; 
some  even  transformed  into  realities  his  literary 
parables,  and  the  public  have  taken  too  literally  the 
creed  of  the  master,  paraphrased  by  the  apostles  of 
fantasy,  and  denounced  by  emphatic  hypocritical 
pharisees.  It  ought  to  be  revised,  and  its  com- 
mentators kept  within  bounds.  Verlaine's  signature 
at  the  foot  of  his  numerous  printed  confessions  is  no 
proof  of  the  correctness  of  the  facts.  Before  every- 
thing else,  he  was  a  poet ;  therefore  he  exaggerated, 
amplified,  enlarged.  Sentiments  and  sensations 
alike  he  peered  at  through  a  microscope.  Under 
the  eyes  of  a  too  credulous  public  he  advanced 
into  the  lists  of  publicity,  sounding  his  trumpet 
and  presenting  himself  as  a  knight  of  depravity. 
He  beat  a  drum  around  the  imaginary  debaucheries 
with  which  he  publicly  reproached  himself,  while 
regretting  in  his  inmost  heart  that  he  was  utterly 


4  PAUL  VERLAINE 

innocent  of  them.  He  boasted  of  impurities  that 
existed  solely  in  his  own  imagination.  In  fact  he 
was  a  great  romancer. 

It  is  far  from  my  desire  to  present  Verlaine  as 
a  saint,  an  exemplary  citizen,  and  model  husband. 
He  was  not,  as  will  presently  appear,  even  a  good 
patriot;  the  banalities  of  ordinary  epitaphs  are 
not  for  him.  At  the  same  time  he  was  not  the 
graceless  vagabond,  the  licentious  reprobate  that 
the  middle-class  public,  who  have  literary  pre- 
tensions, imagine  to  themselves,  with  interest  or 
disgust,  as  best  suits  their  varying  temperaments. 

I  contradicted  the  legend  when  I  stood  by 
the  grave  which  swallowed  up  my  friend ;  but 
in  the  little  cemetery  of  the  Batignolles  I  was  too 
much  overcome  for  a  set  speech.  I  had  followed 
the  bier,  which  bore  away  with  it  a  part  of  my  own 
being,  with  heart  oppressed  and  mind  charged  with 
sad  memories,  without  having  taken  the  precaution 
of  furnishing  myself  with  a  little  bouquet  of  the 
flowers  of  rhetoric,  conventionally  arranged  in 
accordance  with  the  taste  of  the  day,  such  as  is 
usually  placed  on  the  tombs  to  which  oratorical 
access  is  afforded.  In  the  sorrowful  and  sincere 
little  speech  I  improvised,  I  endeavoured  to  refute 
all  idle  tales,  and  present  Verlaine  as  he  really 
was,  the  son  of  a  provincial  family,  his  father  an 
officer  in  the  army,  his  mother  a  landed  proprietress 
educated  as  beseemed  his  condition,  provided  with 
diplomas,  the  possessor  of  a  competency  from  his 
cradle,  having  led  a  conventional  existence  for 
twenty  years,  and,  in  fact,  having  adopted  the 
Bohemian  habits  of  his  later  days  solely  because 
his  income  had  vanished,  and  literature  provided 


THE  LEGEND  OF  PAUL  VERLAINE     5 

him  with  but  an  intermittent  and  insufficient  liveli- 
hood. He  held  in  horror  and  contempt  the  poets 
of  old  who,  miserable,  suffering,  and  destitute, 
knocked  at  the  doors  of  friends,  and  clamoured 
for  admittance  to  hospitals.  He  escaped  the 
lamentable  reputation  of  the  Malfilatres  and  the 
Gilberts.  Certainly  he  was  a  poet,  and  unlucky, 
but  never  a  beggar.  If,  in  the  last  stage  of  his 
life,  he  was  helped,  it  was  quite  voluntarily  by  some 
friends,  and  if  Paris  furnished  him  with  a  refuge, 
was  she  not  bound  to  help  him  or  any  other  of 
her  children  attacked  by  illness  and  misfortune  ? 
He  never  sought  a  permanent  dependence  on  the 
hospital,  and  experienced  profound  relief  in  his 
last  hours  in  that  they  were  not  spent  on  a 
pauper's  bed. 

When  his  resources  were  exhausted,  and  his 
patrimony  consumed — partly  by  his  own  extra- 
vagance, and  partly  by  the  fault  of  others — he 
intended  to  earn  his  own  living.  He  imagined 
that  his  poems,  books,  and  articles  would  yield 
the  equivalent  of  the  capital  that  had  been  so 
easily  dissipated,  believing,  perhaps,  in  his  artistic 
unworldliness,  that  they  represented  a  competency 
which  would  endure  till  he  died  or  grew  rich. 
He  was  rapidly  disillusioned.  The  capital  upon 
which  he  had  imprudently  subsisted,  instead  of 
contenting  himself  with  its  dividends,  was  not  to 
be  replaced  by  the  daily  use  of  his  pen.  That 
instrument  was  a  marvel,  but  the  work  it  produced 
unremunerative  to  the  astonishment  and  dis- 
comfiture of  the  poet ;  fame  not  money  resulted 
from  the  furrow  he  had  laboriously  traced.  It 
was  then  that  he  resolved  to  tear  himself  away 


6  PAUL   VERLAINE 

from  the  famine-struck  hazardous  path  of  litera- 
ture and  the  futile  quest  for  a  price  for  his  copy  ; 
to  quit  the  paltry  battlefield  whereon  fights  are 
waged  for  100  sous.  The  painful  bargaining  he 
had  already  endured  with  the  publisher  Vanier ; 
the  entreaties,  delays,  and  humiliations  attendant 
on  literary  commerce  filled  him  with  apprehension. 
He  begged  me,  most  wisely,  to  endeavour  to 
obtain  his  re-installation  in  Government  employ. 
Was  not  this  an  indication  of  his  desire  for  decency 
and  order?  It  was  only  when  official  hostility  shut 
this  door  of  escape  in  the  face  of  the  anxious  poet, 
that  Verlaine,  feeling  himself  caught  in  the  toils 
of  fate  and  misery,  ceased  to  aspire  after  that  life 
of  conventional  regularity  in  which  the  table  is  laid 
every  day,  and  money  comes  in  as  if  by  clockwork 
at  the  end  of  the  month.  Disheartened,  he  allowed 
himself  to  drift  into  disorder  and  drunkenness, 
aimlessness,  and  unproductiveness.  To  this  extent 
and  no  more  was  the  legend  founded  on  fact,  and 
comparison  made  between  one  "  poor  Lelian  "  and 
Villon,  poet  and  rascal. 

Verlaine  the  modern  Villon  !  It  is  one  of  those 
coined  phrases  which,  having  apparently  been  cast 
in  the  mint  of  observation  and  truth,  is  passed  from 
hand  to  hand,  and  accepted  without  being  subjected 
to  the  test  which  would  have  proved  its  falseness. 
Yet  from  a  literary  point  of  view  the  comparison  is 
not  unkindly,  but  even  flattering. 

Frangois  Villon,  that  poet  most  human  and 
original,  who  first  sounded  the  note  of  melancholy 
among  the  frivolities,  satires,  and  insipid  allegories 
of  the  meaningless  songsters  and  arid  and  argu- 
mentative poets  of  the  fifteenth  century,  heads  the 


THE  LEGEND  OF  PAUL  VERLAINE     7 

magnificent  dynasty  of  our  monarchs  of  wit.  He 
was  the  Pharamond,  the  ancestor,  the  father  of  our 
poetical  noblesse.  To  be  ranked  with  him  is  to  be 
placed  at  the  summit  of  the  aristocracy  of  letters. 
But  with  the  gratifying  literary  comparison  is  an 
unpleasant  hint  of  resemblance  in  life  and  habits  ; 
Villon  was  the  king  of  vagabonds,  and  from  this 
point  of  view,  rather  than  that  of  his  poetical 
talent,  has  Verlaine  been  confounded  with  him. 

Such  confusion  cannot  withstand  analysis, 
although  personal  virtues  have  nothing  in  common 
with  poetical  talents.  The  misdeeds  of  a  man 
of  genius  ought  not  to  prejudice  us ;  even  his 
crimes  should  not  be  taken  into  account  when 
his  work  only  is  in  question.  A  literary  critic  is 
not  a  criminal  jury.  What  matters  an  error  of 
conduct  on  the  part  of  the  artist  to  the  egotistical 
public  who  delight  in  his  masterpiece?  They 
suffer  no  inconvenience,  have  incurred  no  injury, 
be  he  ever  so  debauched,  violent,  covetous  or 
dishonest.  The  artist  must  be  judged  by  his 
work  alone,  quite  apart  from  his  responsibilities 
as  a  man.  If  he  sets  an  example  of  all  the 
domestic  virtues,  do  the  public  obtain  any  advan- 
tage ?  Should  he  not,  in  the  interests  of  humanity, 
set  himself  apart  from  common  morality,  if  by  so 
doing  his  brain  is  stimulated,  rather  than  leave 
behind  him  the  best  of  reputations  and  the  worst 
literature.  He  may  have  committed  all  the  sins 
in  the  decalogue,  and  yet  have  made  both  his 
own  and  the  generations  which  follow  him  heirs 
of  a  marvellous  and  immortal  kingdom.  And  it 
is  well.  Around  him  the  shadow  may  lie  deep, 
but  he  has  illuminated  the  world.  For  mankind 


8  PAUL   VERLAINE 

as  a  whole  this  is  clear  gain.  Our  sympathy 
and  gratitude  should  not  be  confined  to  the  light- 
house keeper  in  Maeterlinck's  tale,  who,  too 
virtuous  to  permit  his  neighbours  to  suffer,  divided 
among  them  the  oil  from  his  lamps,  thus  neglect- 
ing the  illumination  of  the  ocean  in  order  to  light 
a  few  cabins.  Virtue  may  or  may  not  be  allied 
with  genius.  If  Verlaine  had  been  worthy  of  the 
Monthyon  prize,  or  if  he  had  merited  the  halter 
Villon  so  narrowly  escaped,  it  would  not  have 
altered  one  verse  of  Sagesse  nor  modified  one 
stanza  of  the  Fetes  galantes. 

But  one  is  not  necessarily  a  rascal  in  order  to 
be  classed  with  the  great  artists,  and  there  is  no 
reason  why  offences  from  which  Verlaine  was  quite 
free  should  be  attributed  to  him.  That  is  what 
happens  when  he  is  lightly  compared  to  Villon; 
for  the  author  of  the  Grand  and  the  Petit 
Testament  left  behind  him  a  most  unenviable 
reputation  besides  his  superb  literary  renown.  It 
is  well  known  to  all  he  consorted  with  shameless 
highwaymen;  that  he  swindled  trusting  innkeepers; 
that  even  to  theft  by  violence  he  was  no  stranger. 
In  our  day  he  would  have  been  counted  a  hooligan 
and  an  apache.  Caught  redhanded  in  a  highway 
robbery,  he  was  tried  and  condemned  to  be  hanged 
with  his  comrades;  and  to  this  we  owe  the  fine 
epitaph:  "  In  the  rain  have  we  been  washed  and 
made  clean  ..." 

Verlaine,  too,  had  his  moods  of  melancholy 
and  remorse,  in  which  he  mournfully  'asked  himself 
"what  he  had  done  with  his  youth";  but  he  had 
no  highway  robbery  on  his  conscience;  he  had 
never  committed  the  smallest  act  of  dishonesty; 


THE  LEGEND  OF  PAUL  VERLAINE     9 

by  birth,  breeding,  instinct,  and  inclination  he 
was  absolutely  upright.  Family  tradition,  early 
influences,  the  scrupulously  detailed  accounts  kept 
by  his  mother,  the  untarnished  record  of  his 
father,  all  combined  to  protect  him  against  the 
temptations  of  cupidity,  the  degrading  effects  of 
want.  No  doubt  he  sought  to  materialise  the 
pure  gold  of  his  verses,  and  practised  the  art 
of  dedication  to  moneyed  friends,  but  this  was 
only  following  the  example  of  the  greatest  writers 
of  the  time  of  Louis  XIV.,  who  unblushingly 
dedicated  their  work  to.  the  most  influential  nobles. 
But  his  life  might  be  examined  through  a  micro- 
scope, and  although  it  will  be  found  to  contain 
plenty  of  faults,  follies  and  weaknesses,  and  also 
many  sufferings,  with  fate  at  the  bottom  of  them 
all,  nothing  shameful,  not  one  really  vile  nor  un- 
worthy action,  would  be  discovered.  The  true 
friends  of  the  poet  may  therefore  rightly  claim 
for  him  the  epithet  of  honest  man,  commonplace 
enough  perhaps,  but  yet,  in  the  eyes  of  many, 
of  sterling  value ;  and  with  it  may  be  coupled, 
even  as  Leon  Cladel  united  the  two  on  the  tomb 
of  Albert  Glatigny,  that  of  great  artist,  of  which 
he  was  equally  worthy. 

Verlaine  never  came  within  an  ace  of  the  halter 
like  the  poet  bandit  with  whose  memory  he  has 
been  associated.  Villon  escaped  the  gallows  simply 
through  the  favour  of  Louis  XL,  who  chanced  to 
be  passing  through  Meung ;  Verlaine  incurred  the 
anger  of  the  law  through  an  accident  that  could 
hardly  be  regarded  as  criminal.  If  he  were  con- 
strained to  stand  in  the  prisoner's  dock,  it  was  in 
a  foreign  land,  and  at  a  most  unpropitious  moment. 


10  PAUL   VERLAINE 

The  independent  air  and  French  nationality  of  the 
aimless  traveller  who  followed  no  regular  calling — 
at  the  police  station  in  Brussels  he  stated  that  he 
was  "  lyrical  poet  to  his  country  " — and  above  all 
information  from  Paris  representing  him  as  a 
dangerous  republican  who  had  served  under  the 
Commune,  prejudiced  the  Brabangon  jury  against 
him,  and  he  received  a  heavy  sentence — several 
years'  imprisonment.  It  all  arose  out  of  a  slight 
quarrel  with  a  comrade,  Arthur  Rimbaud  —  the 
result  of  too  liberal  libations  of  gin.  A  revolver, 
imprudently  carried,  foolishly  produced  and  pointed 
threateningly  by  way  of  emphasising  an  argument, 
unfortunately  exploded,  the  ball  grazing  Rimbaud's 
hand.  This  insignificant  injury  would  perhaps  in 
France  have  entailed  a  week's  imprisonment,  or 
more  probably  a  police  summons  for  carrying  arms 
prohibited  by  law,  and  a  sentence  of  two  or  three 
days'  "hard  labour";  the  maximum  for  small  injuries 
which  do  not  incapacitate  for  work. 

It  is  true  that  alcohol — that  worst  of  devils 
according  to  Edgar  Allan  Poe,  a  most  competent 
judge, — had  a  malign  influence  over  Verlaine,  and 
caused  pernicious  suggestions  to  enter  his  head. 
Temperamentally  inclined  to  excess  and  morbidity, 
as  he  confesses  in  his  preface  to  the  Poemes 
Saturniens,  under  the  influence  of  alcoholic  in- 
toxication Verlaine  became  a  caricature  of  himself. 
Hence  the  aforesaid  avowals  of  vice.  He  had 
always  a  weakness  for  drink,  but  during  his  travels, 
after  his  separation  from  his  wife,  he  developed  an 
almost  chronic  drunkenness.  Who  will  ever  know 
what  mental  hell  he  strove  to  escape  by  seeking  at  the 
bottom  of  a  glass  for  a  satanically  artificial  paradise  ? 


THE  LEGEND  OF  PAUL  VERLAINE    11 

It  was  in  England  especially,  the  land  of  whisky, 
which  overwhelms,  and  gin  which  stupefies,  that  he 
acquired  the  habit  of  steady  drinking,  of  hurried 
glasses  "on  draught"  at  the  bar,  of  fits  of  exalta- 
tion followed  by  prolonged  torpors.  Far  from  all 
he  loved,  his  home  broken  up,  exiled  from  his 
native  land,  with  the  sole  prospect  of  a  wandering 
life  and  its  necessarily  frequent  stoppages  at  inns, 
accompanied  by  Rimbaud  who  was  a  precocious 
and  steady  drinker,  what  wonder  that  he  sought 
forgetfulness  in  heady  liquids  and  their  mental 
stimulation.  Alcohol  had,  as  it  were,  the  effect  of 
doubling  his  personality  so  that  for  the  time  being 
he  lived  another  life.  The  existence  circumstances 
had  ordained  for  him  was  so  melancholy,  so  un- 
comfortable, that  surely  he  may  be  excused  for 
endeavouring  to  construct  another  habitation  for 
his  mind,  foolish  though  it  was.  More  than  once 
in  his  sober  moments  he  thought  of  suicide.  The 
after-effect  of  intoxication  is  depression,  when  the 
brain  is  often  obsessed  by  the  desire  for  annihila- 
tion ;  to  rid  himself  of  his  temptation  he  would 
raise  the  cheering  cup  again  to  his  tremulous  lips, 
and  like  Anthea  and  the  earth,  contact  with  the 
liquid  re  -  invested  him  with  an  ephemeral  but 
brilliant  vigour.  In  the  union  of  cup  and  lips  he 
found  life  ;  depression  vanished,  and,  warming  his 
numbed  will  before  the  fire  of  alcohol  he  recovered 
force  to  support  destiny  for  yet  another  day.  As 
Baudelaire  says,  "alcohol  made  the  universe  less 
hideous  to  him,  and  time  hung  less  heavy  on  his 
hands."  Let  us  not  reproach  him  overmuch  for 
these  moments  of  forgetfulness.  Perhaps  to  him 
they  were  the  most  endurable  of  his  sad  life,  the 


12  PAUL   VERLAINE 

only  ones,  save  those  of  work,  in  which  he  savoured 
anything  of  happiness.  At  one  time  when  immured 
in  the  oppressive  solitude  of  a  Belgian  prison  he 
sought  and  found  both  peace  and  excitement  in 
devotion,  prayer,  and  religious  exaltation.  To  this 
we  owe  Sagesse;  but  once  at  liberty  again  he 
returned  to  alcohol. 

During  the  last  phase  of  his  life,  in  his  years  of 
Bohemianism  and  want,  was  he  not,  in  spite  of  him- 
self, poor  wanderer,  almost  irresistibly  urged  towards 
cafe's  and  wine-shops  ?  Homeless,  penniless,  and 
companionless  save  for  fallen  creatures  like  himself, 
he  found  in  them  the  parody  of  a  home,  company, 
comparative  comfort,  and  a  shelter  from  rain,  snow, 
and  especially  solitude.  They  afforded  a  means  of 
escape  from  a  miserable  garret,  and  had  almost  the 
semblance  of  a  familiar  sitting-room.  A  photograph, 
one  of  a  series  of  famous  literary  men  in  their  well- 
furnished  homes,  exhibits  the  poet  of  the  Romances 
sans  Paroles  lounging  on  a  bench  in  a  cafe  evolving 
verses,  his  elbow  supported  on  the  marble-topped 
table,  a  glass  of  absinthe  within  reach,  and  under- 
neath is  written  "  Paul  Verlaine  at  home." 

It  is  surely  the  fault  of  a  society  which  like  ours 
pretends  to  be  literary,  artistic,  intellectual,  and 
refined  when  so  gifted  a  poet  has  not  at  his 
command  a  modest  lodging  and  bread  sufficient 
for  each  day,  while  many  a  scandalous  sinecure 
is  lavished  upon  writers,  destitute  of  talent  or 
worth,  but  masters  of  intrigue,  obsequious,  and 
distinguished. 

One  last  word  regarding  the  accusation  of  un- 
natural vice  which  has  been  hurled  against  Verlaine. 
He  would  foolishly  joke  on  this  dangerous  subject, 


THE  LEGEND  OF  PAUL  VERLAINE    13 

smiling  equivocally  and  cynically  when  allusions  were 
made  to  any  of  those  notorious  friendships  of  his 
which  were  considered  compromising,  apparently 
with  the  desire  to  brave  public  opinion.  He  gave 
vent  to  paradoxical  theories  on  the  subject,  and  in- 
dulgent, even  favourable,  appreciations,  in  audacious 
conversations  at  table,  which  were  borne  out  and 
corroborated  in  more  than  one  of  his  poems.  Did 
he  confine  himself  to  a  theory  which  seemed  to  him 
amusing,  and  one  to  be  rather  proud  of,  or  did  he 
succumb  to  a  desire  to  put  it  into  practice  ?  I 
emphatically  assert  the  former.  He  made  no  con- 
fession of  such  lapse  to  me ;  on  the  contrary,  on  a 
certain  serious  occasion,  entirely  laying  aside  his 
usual  pleasantries  on  the  subject,  he  indignantly 
protested  against  it,  and  his  innocence  was  proved 
in  a  letter  he  wrote  to  me  at  the  time  when  his 
wife  was  suing  for  a  separation.  I  am  compelled 
to  believe  that  any  such  licentiousness  on  his 
part  was  purely  cerebral.  He  surrounded  it  with 
mystery.  He  wished  to  impress  his  contemporaries 
by  endowing  himself  with  imaginary  vices,  and 
clothing  himself  in  a  garment  of  depravity  which 
only  existed  in  his  imagination. 

I  have  already  enumerated  his  earliest  literary 
influences,  Petrus  Borel,  Barbey  d'Aurevilly,  and 
Baudelaire.  Their  pompously  expounded  eccen- 
tricities, serious  farces,  outrageous  criticisms  of 
accepted  truths,  and  pedantic  method  of  sneering 
at  current  morality,  had  greatly  biassed  his  judg- 
ment. The  fantastic  and  extravagant  Prudhomme 
owed  a  number  of  his  strange  ideas  to  the  nocturnal 
conversation  of  Verlaine  and  Villiers  de  1'Isle- 
Adam.  These  men  of  exuberant  imagination, 


14  PAUL  VERLAINE 

among  other  unexpected  tolerations,  had  none  of 
the  usual  indignation  and  disgust  for  the  debauchery 
practised  and  vaunted  among  the  ancients.  The 
tranquillity  with  which  many  of  the  literary  men 
of  the  time  expressed  themselves  on  the  subject 
would  seem  to  argue  practical  experience.  The 
complaisance  written  and  spoken  of  Verlaine  and 
some  of  his  friends  gave  rise  to  various  suppositions 
and  presumptions  which  formed  the  basis  of  a 
reputation  quite  undeserved,  and  of  which  no  proof 
in  support  was  ever  brought  against  Verlaine.  The 
legend,  however,  grew  up  and  spread,  owing  its 
inception  and  circulation  largely  to  the  extraordinary 
fatuity  and  bravado  of  him  who  was  and  is  its 
victim. 

One  fact  I  may  mention,  viz.  :  that  Verlaine's 
whole  heart  was  filled  with  an  immense  love  for 
one  woman  alone,  and  that  love  was  betrayed. 
His  originality  is  apparent  not  only  in  his  work 
but  in  his  life.  In  default  of  the  absent,  whose 
memory,  tantalising  and  enthralling,  was  always 
with  him,  and  whose  face  adored,  yet  hated, 
haunted  his  sorrowful  dreams,  he  sought  relief 
for  his  aching  heart  elsewhere,  particularly  during 
the  latter  years  of  his  life.  His  loves  were  lowly  ; 
but  what  choice  had  he  ?  Their  very  degradation 
proved  his  need,  his  yearning  for  feminine  com- 
panionship. A  hundred  poems,  to  say  nothing  of 
his  purely  erotic  works,  bear  witness  to  the  strength 
of  his  feelings,  and  exhibit  him  as  an  ardent  lover 
of  woman.  His  tendency  to  sentimental  love  was 
slight,  it  was  the  material  woman  alone  which 
appealed  to,  and  interested  him.  His  last  adven- 
tures were  truly  despicable ;  and  the  poor  loiterers 


THE  LEGEND  OF  PAUL  VERLAINE    15 

on  the  pavement  whom  he  accosted  could  neither 
understand  nor  console  him. 

Although  he  was  never  an  ecstatic  lover,  after 
the  manner  of  romantic  swains,  and  demanded 
nothing  from  the  women  he  met,  after  the  loss  of 
the  adored  one,  except  to  share  in  his  revelries, 
he  had  several  sentimental  friendships  of  a  particu- 
larly refined  and  subtle  nature ;  another  proof  of 
what  I  have  already  asserted — the  perfect  innocence 
of  his  masculine  affections. 

Among  the  cherished  comrades  who  at  various 
periods  of  his  life  inspired  him  with  very  warm 
sentiments,  I  remember  first  of  all  one  of  his 
cousins,  named  Dujardin  of  Lecluse,  near  Arleux  in 
the  north,  where  he  spent  his  holidays.  It  was  a 
very  ardent,  youthful  friendship,  and  he  wrote  to 
me  about  it  in  his  letters  of  September  and  October 
1862  with  enthusiasm.  It  was  of  a  different  char- 
acter altogether  from  the  intellectual  affection 
which  already  existed  between  him  and  me.  He 
expressed  himself  regarding  this  young  cousin  like 
a  lover  vaunting  his  mistress,  and  in  those  days 
the  schoolboy  Verlaine  was  absolutely  innocent.  A 
contemporary  of  ours  at  the  Lycee  Bonaparte,  a 
delicate  and  melancholy  young  man,  named  Lucien 
Viotti,  to  whom  Verlaine  alludes  with  regret  in  his 
M^moires,  was  another  of  these  friends  of  his. 

Viotti  took  part  with  me  in  the  commencement  of 
the  war  of  1870.  He  was  enrolled  in  my  regiment, 
but  during  the  affair  at  Chevilly  on  3Oth  September, 
he  disappeared,  and  was  either  killed  or  wounded 
and  captured.  We  heard  that  he  died  in  hospital 
at  Mayence,  but  the  exact  end  of  our  brave  and 
gentle  comrade  was  never  known ;  Verlaine  was 


16  PAUL  VERLAINE 

deeply  afflicted  by  his  loss,    and  always  spoke  of 
him  with  emotion  and  regret. 

Arthur  Rimbaud  was  Verlaine's  last  obsession  ; 
he  was  a  sinister  character,  an  extraordinary  young 
man,  whose  strange  verses,  barbaric  in  colour  and 
of  bizarre  force,  have  recently  been  exhumed.  He 
had  all  the  appearance  of  a  youth  escaped  from  a 
reformatory ;  slender,  pale,  awkward,  endowed  with 
a  robust  appetite  and  an  unquenchable  thirst,  cold, 
contemptuous,  cynical,  he  rapidly  dominated  the 
weak  Verlaine.  As  they  say  in  melodramas,  he 
was  the  poet's  evil  genius. 

Arthur  Rimbaud  was  the  chief  instrument  in 
Verlaine's  misfortunes.  It  was  he  who  lured  the 
poet  to  cafes,  and  kept  him  there,  while  the  table 
at  home  was  spread  for  him  in  vain  ;  and  when  he 
accompanied  Verlaine  to  the  Rue  Nicolet,  his  want  of 
breeding  and  arrogance  made  him  a  most  unwelcome 
guest.  Finally,  having  been  the  cause  of  numerous 
quarrels  between  husband  and  wife,  he  induced  the 
poet  to  quit  the  conjugal  hearth  and  wander  with 
him  in  England  and  Belgium. 

During  these  roamings,  beyond  the  range  of 
home  ties  and  friends,  Verlaine  became  more  than 
ever  under  the  influence  of  the  bizarre  abnormal 
being,  the  unhealthy  genius  whose  sensational  origi- 
nality and  extraordinary  speculations  greatly  im- 
pressed him,  and  altered  his  poetic  temperament. 
The  shock  of  arrest,  imprisonment,  and  isolation, 
and  the  sudden  impulse  towards  religion  which 
followed  in  their  train,  undoubtedly  played  a  large 
part  in  the  transformation  of  the  talent  and  poetical 
productions  of  Verlaine ;  but  the  effect  of  the 
capricious  and  original  intellectuality  of  his  fatal 


THE   LEGEND   OF   PAUL   VERLAINE          17 

mentor  was  very  strong,  and  gave  another  direction 
to  his  ideas,  opinions,  dreams  of  art,  and  methods 
of  interpreting  the  world  within  him. 

Unhappily  the  malignity  of  the  compelling  and 
baneful  dominion  Rimbaud  exercised  over  him 
extended  to  the  domain  of  reality.  This  pernicious 
adviser  effected  a  radical  alteration  in  the  life  and 
habits  of  the  impressionable  and  weak  Verlaine,  who 
allowed  himself  to  be  guided  towards  perdition  by 
the  superior  will  and  precocious  energy  of  Rimbaud, 
poet,  dreamer,  idler,  one  day  to  develop  into  explorer, 
merchant,  man  of  business,  pursuing  an  adventurous 
caravan  life,  in  which  arguments  regarding  rhymes 
and  alliterations  were  replaced  by  the  special  pleadings 
of  commerce,  discussions  with  printers  on  the  choice 
of  lettering  and  typographical  ornament,  by  bargains 
concluded  at  the  point  of  the  revolver,  and  literary 
fortunes  by  those  obtained  from  wielding  the  hatchet 
in  forests  of  precious  woods.  Rimbaud,  poetical 
guide,  destined  to  become  a  slave-driver,  was  the 
cause  of  Verlaine's  arrest  at  Brussels  ;  and  after  thus 
completing  his  ruin  he  abandoned  the  unfortunate 
poet,  and  abruptly  disappeared.  He  burnt  his 
poems,  obtained  an  appointment  as  manager  to  a 
factory  in  Abyssinia,  made  money,  and  eventually 
returned  to  France  to  die  of  a  gangrenous  wound  in 
a  hospital  at  Marseilles.  A  statue  has  been  raised 
to  him  in  Charleville,  his  native  town. 

In  the  course  of  his  varied  career,  Verlaine 
formed  other  sincere  and  extravagant  attachments 
for  certain  young  poets,  artists,  and  scholars,  whom 
he  designated  as  his  disciples,  and  memories  of 
whom  he  has  preserved  in  one  or  other  of  his 
books. 


18  PAUL  VERLAINE 

The  Pharisees,  fools,  and  slanderers  of  this  world 
may  put  an  evil  construction  on  the  invincible 
attraction  his  chosen  friends  always  had  for 
Verlaine.  The  legend  of  which  he  is  the  victim 
almost  seems  to  be  confirmed  by  his  emotional 
relations  with  them.  Yet  these  friendships  of  his 
are  not  without  precedent.  Ancient  history  is  full  of 
tales  of  ideal  affection  between  pure-minded  heroes 
and  reverend  sages,  untouched  by  a  single  breath 
of  calumny.  Nisus  and  Euryalus,  whose  friendship 
provided  Virgil  with  a  theme  for  an  epic,  Achilles 
mourning  and  avenging  Patroclus,  and  the  heroic 
Theban  legion,  which  allowed  itself  to  be  massacred 
at  Cheronesus,  are  all  examples  of  that  platonic 
affection  between  members  of  the  same  sex,  for 
which  Verlaine  has  been  reproached,  not  only  in 
whispers  but  on  the  housetop,  Verlaine,  who  loved 
one  woman  and  that  one  his  wife,  with  his  whole 
heart,  and  never  ceased  to  suffer  because  she  had 
abandoned  him. 

Paul  Verlaine  has  become  famous.  Literature 
mourned  his  loss,  and  his  obsequies  had  the  character- 
istics of  an  apotheosis.  He  is  regarded  as  the 
founder  of  a  school,  and  one  of  the  revivalists  of 
modern  poetry.  His  renown  is  considerable 
abroad ;  in  France  he  has  not  yet  received  the 
official  and  popular  recognition  due  to  his  genius. 


PAUL    VERLAINE'S    MOTHER 


CHAPTER  II 

CHILDHOOD — THE  PARENTS  OF  PAUL  VERLAINE — 
SCHOOL  DAYS 

(1844-1862) 

PAUL  MARIE  VERLAINE  was  born  at  Metz  on  the 
3Oth  March  1844,  in  a  house,  middle -class  in 
appearance,  of  several  stories,  No.  2  in  the  Rue 
Haute-Pierre,  now  known  as  Hochsteinstrasse,  near 
the  Esplanade  ;  it  is  still  standing. 

Here  is  an  extract  from  the  birth  certificate 
of  the  poet  which  I  copied  at  the  H6tel-de-Ville 
of  Metz : — 

" .  .  .  Nicolas  Auguste  Verlaine,  aged  forty-six, 
born  at  Bertrix  (Belgium)  Captain  Adjutant- Major 
in  the  second  regiment  of  Engineers,  Chevalier 
of  the  Legion-d'Honneur  and  of  Saint-Ferdinand 
d'Espagne,  residing  at  Metz,  Rue  Haute-Pierre, 
who  presented  to  us  a  male  child,  which,  on  the 
3Oth  March  last  at  nine  o'clock  in  the  evening  was 
born  in  his  house  to  him  and  his  wife,  Elisa  Julie 
Josephe  Stephanie  Dehee,  aged  thirty-two  years, 
born  at  Fampoux  (Pas-de-Calais),  of  no  profession, 
and  to  which  he  states  he  has  given  the  names 
of  Paul  Marie.  .  .  ." 

Verlaine  was  therefore  a  Messin,  in  accordance 

19 


20  PAUL  VERLAINE 

with  the  custom  of  calling  the  town  in  which  an 
individual  is  born  his  native  place.  The  regiments 
of  Engineers  were  quartered  at  Arras,  Montpellier, 
and  Metz,  each  in  turn  furnishing  the  garrison, 
and  military  routine  had  assigned  Metz  to  Captain 
Verlaine  at  the  time  of  his  child's  birth.  Victor 
Hugo,  by  an  analogous  chance,  was  a  Bisontin. 
As  his  father  was  again  quartered  at  Metz,  Verlaine 
knew  the  town  well,  and  never  spoke  of  it,  after  the 
annexation,  without  sincere  emotion.  There  his 
child  life  began  and  his  intellect  awakened ;  in  the 
old  episcopal  city  he  received  his  first  impressions, 
which  he  has  related  in  some  delightful  pages. 
His  sketch  of  the  Esplanade,  where  the  officers 
and  the  ladies  of  Metz  society  were  wont  to  meet 
and  the  children  to  play,  is  full  of  life  and  colour. 

"The  Esplanade,  a  very  fine  promenade,  is  a 
terrace  above  the  Moselle,  which  flows,  a  wide  and 
limpid  stream,  at  the  foot  of  hills,  covered  with 
vineyards,  most  pleasing  to  behold.  Against  this 
background,  rising  above  the  town,  the  cathedral 
uprears  its  lace-like  architecture,  and  towards  night- 
fall the  tranquil  cawing  of  the  rooks  is  heard,  as 
they  return  like  a  cloud  to  roost  upon  the  innumer- 
able towers  and  turrets  clearly  outlined  against  the 
purple  sky.  In  the  centre  of  the  promenade  is  a 
bandstand  of  elegant  design  where  military  concerts 
used  to  take  place  on  Thursdays  and  Sundays, 
and  were  attended  by  all  the  unoccupied  of 
Metz.  Toilettes,  greetings,  conversations,  flirta- 
tions, waving  of  fans  and  brandishing  of  lorgnons, 
in  those  days  square  monocles  or  eyeglasses  of 
mother-of-pearl  and  tortoise-shell,  which  an  effort 
has  since  been  made  to  revive  among  other  fashions 
of  the  past.  All  these  things  were  intensely 


CHILDHOOD  21 

interesting  to  my  boyish  and  rather  mischievous 
observation.  I  said  little,  but  sometimes  a  terrible 
remark  would  escape  me  regarding  the  worn-out 
gloves  of  Madame  So -and -So,  or  the  shrunken 
nankeen  trousers  of  Monsieur  Such-and-Such,  whilst 
my  youthful  love  of  melody  was  intoxicated  by  the 
dance  music  of  Pilodo,  clarionet  solos,  or  a  selection 
of  airs  from  the  latest  comic  opera  of  Auber  or 
Grisar.  .  .  ."  (Confessions,  Part  I.) 

On  this  Esplanade  the  poet  experienced  one 
of  those  childish  loves,  the  remembrance  of  which 
endures  and  perfumes  the  whole  of  a  lifetime. 
Among  the  many  children  who  played  around  the 
bandstand  under  their  parents'  watchful  eyes,  was 
the  little  daughter  of  a  magistrate  with  whom 
Verlaine  quickly  made  friends.  She  was  called 
Mathilde,  a  name  the  poet  was  to  meet  with  again 
in  after  days. 

"  She  might  have  been  eight,"  he  said,  "while 
I  was  just  entering  my  seventh  year.  She  was 
not  pretty  with  the  prettiness  usually  associated 
with  that  age.  Auburn-hued  hair  falling  in  ringlets 
round  an  animated  face  with  eyes  of  golden  brown, 
the  full  lips  of  kindness  and  of  health,  and  complexion 
lightly  touched  with  sun  stains  made  up,  it  seemed 
to  me,  a  physiognomy  all  alight  with  fire  and 
sparkle,  and  in  her  eager  gait  there  was  an  abound- 
ing youthfulness  —  all  this  caught  hold  of  me, 
ensnared  my  heart  and,  shall  I  say,  my  senses? 
Immediately  we  were  friends.  What  had  we  to  say 
to  one  another?  I  do  not  know,  yet  we  always 
talked  on  the  frequent  occasions  when  we  did  not 
play.  When  one  of  us  was  late  in  arriving,  for 
I  pleased  her  I  must  confess,  fully  as  much  as  she 
pleased  me,  the  waiting  was  charged  with  anxious 


22  PAUL   VERLAINE 

expectancy,  and  then  what  joy,  what  haste  to  meet, 
what  numerous  and  resounding  kisses  on  both  cheeks! 
Sometimes  there  were  reproaches  for  delay,  miniature 
scenes,  shadows  of  jealousy,  when  another  boy  or 
girl  joining  in  our  play  found  too  warm  a  welcome 
on  one  side  or  the  other.  Our  very  demonstrative 
friendship  was  commented  upon  with  much  interest, 
and  greatly  amused,  among  others,  the  officers 
who  formed  a  large  part  of  the  audience  at  these 
concerts.  '  Paul  and  Virginia '  said  the  com- 
mandants and  captains,  who  did  not  go  further 
back  than  modern  classics,  while  the  lieutenants 
and  sub-lieutenants,  more  scholarly  and  with  truer 
instinct,  laughingly  insinuated  '  Daphnis  and  Chloe ! ' 
My  father's  colonel,  who  was  later  to  become 
Marshal  Niel,  was  greatly  diverted  by  these  youth- 
ful enthusiasms,  and  our  parents,  recognising  their 
utter  innocence  and  naivete",  willingly  permitted  our 
charming  relations.  .  .  ."  (Confessions,  Part  I.) 

Softened  by  this  unsullied  incident  of  happy 
childhood,  and  reviving  the  idyll  after  thirty-five 
years,  he  added,  addressing  the  little  girl,  now  a 
woman,  a  mother  doubtless,  even  grandmother,  of 
whose  fate  he  was  ignorant,  lost  as  she  was  to  him 
in  the  whirlpool  of  life,  perhaps  dead,  and  surviving 
only  in  the  heart  of  the  poet : 

"  Madame,  if  ever  your  eyes  chance  upon  these 
lines  you  will  smile  kindly,  will  you  not?  Just  as 
they  smiled  who  were  witnesses  of  our  pure  childish 
love,  as  I  do  myself  at  these  memories,  still  fresh 
and  filled  with  the  perfume  of  innocence  and  early 
impulse,  flowering  of  a  sudden  in  the  mind,  which 
marvels  at  their  exquisite  charm,  of  the  poet,  who 
wishes,  alas!  he  had  only  such  sweet  sincerities 
to  relate."  (Confessions,  Part  I.) 


THE  PARENTS  OF  PAUL  VERLAINE    23 

Lives,  like  rivers,  are  only  limpid  near  their 
source.  Recollections  such  as  these,  chaste  and 
delicate,  are  but  rarely  to  be  met  with  in  the 
biography,  too  often  soiled  and  sullen,  of  the 
Daphnis  of  1850.  Only  once  again  does  Chloe 
appear  at  his  side  during  the  few  fleeting  hours 
of  La  Bonne  Chanson. 

Verlaine  twice  resided  at  Metz  with  his  parents, 
and  these  memories,  which  he  evoked  after  long 
years  of  absence,  have  to  do  with  his  second  stay 
in  the  town.  Not  long  after  the  birth  of  his  son 
Captain  Verlaine's  regiment  went  to  Montpellier. 
Of  that  great  southern  town  Verlaine  retained 
only  a  confused  recollection,  blurred  pictures  of 
religious  processions  with  penitents  in  white,  black, 
and  grey,  threading  their  way  through  the  streets, 
their  heads  enveloped  in  the  sinister  cowls,  like  those 
of  phantoms,  which  recall  the  times  of  the  Inquisition. 

On  another  occasion  he  was  taken  to  Nimes, 
his  father  having  been  sent  there  to  maintain  order 
during  the  revolution  of  1848.  They  remained  in 
the  town  a  very  short  time,  and  the  only  remem- 
brance retained  by  Verlaine  was  that  of  being 
present  at  the  ceremony  of  the  proclamation  of 
the  Republic,  in  the  great  square,  dressed  in  his 
best  clothes :  embroidered  collar,  knickerbockers 
half-way  down  his  legs,  and  cap  with  a  long 
tassel  falling  to  one  side. 

It  was  after  this  that  the  Verlaine  family 
returned  to  Metz  with  the  regiment,  and  the 
period  began  when  the  childish  mind  of  the 
poet  first  received  definite  impressions — when  his 
imagination  awoke  and  his  brain  acquired  the 
qualities  of  comprehension  and  comparison. 


24  PAUL   VERLAINE 

"  I  did  not  live  there  many  years,  it  is  true," 
he  said,  "  but  it  was  certainly  at  this  time  that 
my  mind  and  senses  opened  to  the  life  which,  on 
the  whole,  I  have  found  deeply  interesting.  Since 
those  days  the  noble  and  ill-fated  town  has  fallen, 
has  it  not,  gloriously  and  tragically — abominably 
tragically,  after  what  immortal  combats,  by  treason, 
unparalleled  in  history,  at  the  hands  of  its  hereditary 
foe.  Therefore,  in  order  to  remain  French,  at  the 
age  of  twenty-eight,  after  having  fulfilled  all  my 
civic  and  social  duties  in  France  and  as  a 
Frenchman,  and  taking  part,  uncompelled  save 
by  patriotism,  when  the  war  broke  out,  in  the 
national  defence  to  the  utmost  of  my  powers,  I 
was  obliged,  in  1872,  when  in  London,  whither 
I  had  been  hurried  in  consequence  of  the  social 
war,  after  the  civil  war  and  the  foreign  war,  to 
make  a  choice  in  favour  of  the  nationality  ...  of 
my  birth."  (Confessions,  Part  I.) 

Thus  the  poet  chose  France,  under  the  condi- 
tions imposed  by  the  Treaty  of  Frankfort.  Except 
for  certain  periods  of  relaxation  and  reaction, 
Verlaine  was  always  imbued  with  patriotic,  even 
militant  sentiments.  He  might  be  called  a  chauvin 
without  hint  of  ridicule;  his  chauvinism  was  genuine 
and  active,  at  once  instructive  and  calculated, 
hereditary  and  acquired,  in  contrast  with  the 
opinions,  indifferent,  sceptical,  cosmopolitan,  and 
even  anarchist,  expressed,  particularly  during  the 
last  years  of  his  life,  by  his  acquaintances,  associates 
on  decadent  reviews,  colleagues  on  symbolist  news- 
papers, and  those  whom  he  called  his  disciples. 
He  protested  against  these  negations  of  patriotism, 
to  him  blasphemies,  evincing  the  very  real  emotion 
he  always  felt  when  there  was  question,  however 


THE   PARENTS   OF   PAUL   VERLAINE        25 

slight,  of  Alsace-Lorraine,  already  half  forgotten, 
or  regarded  as  a  negligable  quantity.  His  vigorous 
ode  to  Metz  testifies  to  his  national  sentiments ; 
it  is  a  virile  poem,  a  rousing  salutation  to  the 
battalions  of  posterity  rising  up  to  avenge  the 
defeat  of  the  armies  of  the  past.  The  persistent 
note  of  revenge  that  animates  it  places  Verlaine 
in  the  front  rank  of  patriot  poets. 

These  martial  and  warlike  ideas  of  his  were 
doubtless  the  result  both  of  heredity  and  environ- 
ment, as  the  son  of  an  officer  brought  up  under 
the  flag.  He  loved  and  admired  his  father,  and 
retained  a  proud  recollection  of  the  handsome 
paternal  uniform,  recalling  its  details  with  pleasure 
in  after  life,  and  alluding  with  fond  pride,  as  he 
completed  his  portrait  of  the  Captain,  to  "his^superb 
carriage  and  great  height,  such  as  we  do  not  see 
nowadays,"  and  his  visage  stern  yet  gentle,  whereon 
the  habit  of  command  had  imprinted  a  look  of 
authority  which  inspired  respect. 

When  his  father  died  one  3ist  December, 
although  Verlaine  was  then  an  ardent  Republican 
and  full  of  respect  for  Marat,  Babeuf,  and  the  more 
extreme  Revolutionists,  he  put  aside  his  grief  in 
order  to  call  upon  the  officers  in  command,  they 
having  refused  to  allow  the  usual  military  honours 
to  take  place  at  the  funeral,  under  the  pretext  that 
the  date  was  the  ist  January.  Verlaine  insisted, 
however,  and  Captain  Verlaine  received  all  the 
marks  of  respect  due  to  his  rank  and  decorations, 
exacted  by  the  son  who  for  himself  was  totally 
indifferent  to  dignities,  distinctions,  and  honours 
of  every  kind. 

Verlaine's    father,    when    I    knew   him,    was   a 


26  PAUL  VERLAINE 

fine  old  man,  upright  and  spare,  his  face  thin  and 
bronzed,  the  skin  like  parchment,  with  a  short 
white  moustache,  and  a  stern  but  not  ill-tempered 
expression.  He  never  dilated  upon  his  military 
experiences.  He  adored  his  son,  although  strict 
with  him,  particularly  in  public.  When  the  boy 
was  at  boarding  -  school,  however,  in  the  Rue 
Chaptal,  he  used  to  go  every  day  and  enquire 
after  his  health  and  progress,  and  always  took 
with  him  some  dainty  set  aside  for  the  purpose 
from  dinner  the  previous  night,  to  supplement  the 
somewhat  meagre  school  fare.  Paul  experienced 
deep  grief  when  he  lost  the  excellent  man.  I 
was  present,  and  consoled  him  as  well  as  I  could, 
having  suffered  a  similar  bereavement  three  years 
before.  One  small  detail  serves  to  show  the 
intensity  of  Verlaine's  affliction  :  he  was  a  great 
smoker,  but,  during  the  two  days  before  the 
funeral,  he  never  even  thought  of  lighting  a  pipe 
or  cigarette.  Impressionable  and  stirred  to  the 
depths  of  his  being,  it  was  weeks  before  he  shook 
off  the  effects  of  his  grief. 

Bertrix,  where  the  Captain  was  born,  is  situated 
between  Bouillon  and  Paliseul,  quite  near  the  frontier, 
and  Paul  often  spent  his  vacations  at  the  latter  place, 
having  kept  up  with  his  paternal  relations,  Mme. 
Grandjean,  the  widow  of  a  colonel,  and  Mme. 
Evrard,  also  a  widow  at  Jehonville  and  Paliseul. 
Verlaine's  father  was  the  son  of  a  notary,  who  held 
a  position  in  the  chief  town  of  the  Department. 
At  sixteen  he  joined  Napoleon's  army  and  took 
part  in  the  last  campaigns  of  the  Empire,  1814 
and  1815.  He  remained  French,  after  his  birth- 
place had  become,  under  the  treaty  of  1815,  Luxem- 


THE  PARENTS  OF  PAUL  VERLAINE    27 

bourgeois.  He  gradually  rose  in  the  Engineers 
until  he  was  Captain  Adjutant  -  Major,  when  he 
resigned  on  account  of  the  unjust  treatment  he 
considered  he  had  received.  His  Colonel,  after- 
wards Marshal  Niel,  who  liked  and  esteemed  him, 
wrote  a  complimentary  letter  urging  him  to  with- 
draw his  resignation  ;  but  the  Captain,  who  was 
exceedingly  obstinate,  persisted,  and  retiring  into 
civil  life  quitted  Metz  for  Paris. 

The  Verlaines  were  an  ancient  Ardennaise 
family.  One  biographer  claims  for  them  a  seign- 
eurial  origin,  but  I  am  rather  inclined  to  the 
opinion  of  M.  Saint  -  Pol  -  Roux,  who  stated  in 
La  Plume  for  February  1 896  that  Verlaine's  great- 
grandfather after  having  served  in  the  army  settled 
at  Arville,  where  he  was  dispensed  from  paying 
titles  by  the  Abbe  of  Saint- Hubert,  in  consideration 
of  his  attending  High  Mass  at  the  Abbey  in  uniform. 
This  modest  and  rustic  origin  seems  to  me  more 
in  accordance  with  known  facts  than  the  theory 
of  nobility.  All  Verlaine's  relations  were  farmers 
and  small  landed  proprietors,  and  neither  Paul 
nor  his  mother  ever  alluded  to  a  title  having 
existed  in  the  family,  nor  to  documents  substantiat- 
ing such  a  claim. 

The  poet,  moreover,  kept  silence  in  his  writings 
regarding  his  birth  and  ancestors,  which  proves 
his  lack  of  information  on  the  subject,  as  he  was 
very  careful  to  keep  in  touch  with  his  connections, 
and  had  the  sentiment  of  kinship  and  soil  largely 
developed. 

Verlaine's  mother  had  numerous  relatives  at 
Fampoux,  Le"cluse,  Arleux  -  du  -  Nord,  and  Arras. 
Belonging  to  a  family  of  landowners,  farmers,  and 


28  PAUL   VERLAINE 

sugar   manufacturers,    she    brought    her    husband, 
besides   the    usual    dowry,    a   certain  fortune,   and 
in   all    the   Verlaines    had    about    400,000,    francs. 
This   competency   was   threatened    by    the    unfor- 
tunate   speculations     of    Verlaine's    father.      The 
Captain  was  acquainted  with  M.  Michel  Chevalier, 
ex-Saint-Simonien,    economist    and    senator,    and 
as  this  personage  was  one  of  the  Board  of  Directors 
of  the   Credit    Mobilier,  founded  by  the   Pereiras, 
Captain   Verlaine   thought  he  ought  to  invest  his 
fortune  in  the  concern,  the  shares  in  which  went 
up  to  a  fabulous  extent  on  the  Bourse  for  a  brief 
space,  500  franc  shares  being  quoted  at  2,000  francs. 
Captain  Verlaine  unfortunately  deferred  consulting 
my   father   who,    occupying   a   high   position   in  a 
great   banking-house,    at   the  head   of  which   was 
one   of  the    Directors   of  the   Banque  de  France, 
was    able    to    give    most    excellent    advice.      He 
counselled  the  Captain  to  sell  out  at  once,  as  the 
shares  had  already  suffered  considerable  depreciation, 
and  would  soon  fall  even  lower,  but  the  old  soldier 
hesitated  ;  he  could  not  comprehend  that  the  shares 
for  which  he  had  paid  between  1,300  and  1,400  francs, 
and  which  had  gone  up  in  price  for  a  time  on  the 
Bourse  to  1,900  and  2,000  francs,  must  now  be  sold 
at  800  francs.     He  hoped  they  would  go  up  again, 
and  it   was   only  with  the   greatest  difficulty   that 
my  father  could  prevail  upon  him  to  sell  out  while 
there  was  yet  time.     The  Credit  Mobilier  in  fact 
was  declining  every  day,  and  it  was  impossible  to 
tell  when  it  would  cease  to  fall.     Thanks  to  this 
sale,  which  took  place  almost  at  the  last  moment, 
a  portion  of  the  Verlaines'  fortune  was  preserved, 
but  their  capital,  of  course,  was  sensibly  diminished. 


THE   PARENTS  OF  PAUL  VERLAINE         29 

I  believe  Captain  Verlaine  obtained  about  700 
francs  per  share.  He  made  two  or  three  other 
unfortunate  speculations.  Having  a  pleasant  re- 
collection of  Spain  where  he  had  been  on  a 
campaign  he  determined  to  invest  in  the  railways 
of  Seville-X6res,  and  this,  too,  underwent  a  rapid 
and  large  depreciation. 

These  losses  hastened  the  death  of  the  Captain, 
and  he  succumbed  to  an  attack  of  apoplexy  on 
3ist  December  1865.  I  have  already  spoken  of 
Paul's  acute  sorrow  ;  his  father,  though  sometimes 
severe,  after  the  manner  of  an  old  soldier,  had 
loved  him  tenderly  and  fgiven  him  a  hundred 
repeated  proofs  of  his  affection.  His  loss  was  the 
poet's  first  grief. 

His  mother  was  a  woman  of  middle  height,  thin, 
upright,  energetic,  dignified  in  aspect,  cold  and 
calm  in  manner.  She  always  dressed  in  black, 
even  in  her  husband's  lifetime ;  having  many 
relations  she  was  often  obliged  to  go  into  mourning, 
and  for  the  sake  of  economy  continued  to  wear 
her  sable  garments  after  the  conventional  period 
had  elapsed.  She  was  pious,  thrifty,  and  highly 
respectable  in  every  sense  of  the  word.  In  Paris 
she  did  not  discard  her  provincial  habits  as  an 
officer's  wife.  She  affected  a  ceremonious  air  even 
on  the  most  ordinary  occasions,  and  in  the  suburb 
of  the  Batignolles  was  considered  very  well  bred. 
She  spoke  seldom  and  with  precision,  and  had  little 
customs  of  her  own  ;  for  instance,  at  the  middle- 
class  dinners  to  which  she  was  invited,  she  always 
wore  a  hat  trimmed  with  great  bows  of  grey 
watered-silk.  She  knew  nothing  of  literature  and 
admired  everything  her  son  wrote,  without  in  the 


SO  PAUL  VERLAINE 

least  understanding  it ;  I   am  not  certain  that  she 
read  his  works.     She  adored  Paul,  spoilt  him,  and 
forgave  him  everything.     Afterwards  she  had  often 
to  repent   her  too   great   indulgence,  enduring   in 
silence  the  bad  habits  he  acquired ;  she  dared  not 
scold  him  even  when  he  came  home  drunk,  which 
happened   rather   often.     She   would  help   him   to 
bed,  bring  him   eau  sucrte    and   tisane   and   then, 
retiring   to  her  own  room,   burst  into  tears.     But 
the  next  day  she  was  always  ready  with  excuses 
for  the  dear  drunkard,  throwing  the  blame  on  his 
comrades — of  whom  I   was  one — for  the  excesses 
to   which  Verlaine   spontaneously  abandoned  him- 
self without  even  the  example  of  his  friends,  for 
we  were  far   from   drinking  as  deeply  as  he  did. 
Some   of  our  little   circle   were,  on  the   contrary, 
excessively   sober,     L.  -  Xavier    de    Ricard    drank 
nothing   but   water,  and   Coppde  and    Dierx   only 
went  to  the  cafe's  to  meet  their  friends  and  talk. 
Madame  Verlaine  did  not  leave  her  son  until 
his   marriage.      They   lived    together   at   26    Rue 
Lecluse,   after  the  death  of  the  Captain.      After- 
wards she  accompanied  him  when  he  went  to  stay 
with   his   relations   in   the   north,    and   on    several 
occasions  took  part  in  his  adventurous  wanderings. 
She  was  near  him  at  the  time  of  the  trouble  in 
Brussels ;    she    lived   with   him    at    Boulogne-sur- 
Seine,   on   his   return  from    Belgium ;    and  during 
the  last  years  of  her  life  she  lodged  in  the   Rue 
de  la  Roquette,   then  the   Rue  Moreau,   near  the 
Cour  Saint-Francois,   where   Verlaine    had   rooms 
behind  a  wine-merchant's  shop. 

Her   death   on  the    2ist   January    1886   broke 
the  last  link  between  the  poor  exile  and  his  own 


THE   PARENTS   OF  PAUL  VERLAINE        31 

people.  The  month  of  January  was  particularly 
fatal  for  the  family  ;  Captain  Verlaine  was  buried 
on  the  ist,  his  wife  on  the  23rd,  and  Verlaine 
himself  on  the  loth. 

The  loss  of  his  best  friend  left  Paul  very 
desolate,  totally  abandoned  to  his  own  devices, 
without  ties,  a  prey  to  all  the  allurements  of 
drink,  the  irregularities  of  a  Bohemian  life,  evil 
associations,  degrading  pleasures,  misery  and 
sickness. 

Verlaine's  youth,  except  for  visits  to  his  relatives 
at  Fampoux,  Lecluse,  and  Paliseul,  was  spent  partly 
at  the  house  in  the  Batignolles,  and  partly  at  a 
school  in  the  iQth  arrondissement  (then  the  2nd) 
quartier  Saint-Georges.  When  Captain  Verlaine 
resigned  he  came  to  Paris,  and  at  first,  while 
awaiting  his  household  effects,  stayed  at  a  hotel 
in  the  Rue  des  Petites-Ecuries.  Paul  was  seven 
years  old,  and  his  first  impression  of  Paris,  which 
he  has  described  with  an  exactitude  probably 
derived  from  further  acquaintance,  was  unfavour- 
able. He  found  "  the  network  of  very  high 
houses,  with  their  mouldy  walls  of  a  doubtful 
grey,  and  yellow  stucco  fagades,  covered  with  dust 
and  greenish  stains"  very  miserable.  It  is  true 
that  the  district  in  which  the  family  were  staying 
is  one  of  the  least  attractive  in  Paris.  The  Rue 
des  Petites-Ecuries  is  crowded,  noisy,  narrow,  and 
gloomy,  full  of  warehouses,  trucks,  packers  nailing 
up  wooden  cases  on  the  footpath  and  sheds,  in 
which  impatient  horses  keep  striking  their  hoofs 
on  the  resounding  pavements. 

When  the  furniture,  forwarded  by  slow  train, 
arrived  from  Metz,  they  quitted  the  hotel,  and 


32  PAUL  VERLAINE 

Captain  Verlaine,  attracted  by  the  hope  of  finding 
some  brothers-in-arms  in  the  Batignolles,  a  district 
largely  frequented  in  those  days  by  retired  army 
men,  went  to  live  at  No.  10  Rue  Saint-Louis, 
not  No.  2,  as  the  Confessions  erroneously  states. 
The  Rue  Saint  -  Louis  is  now  called  the  Rue 
Nollet.  The  Verlaines  occupied  an  apartment  on 
the  second  floor  of  a  house  with  a  decent,  middle- 
class  exterior,  unchanged  in  the  present  day. 

Paul  was  sent  as  a  day  boy  to  a  little  school, 
still  in  existence,  in  the  Rue  Helene,  where  he 
learned  to  read,  to  write,  and  the  four  rules  of 
arithmetic.  Carle  des  Perrieres,  afterwards  a  well- 
known  journalist,  was  a  school  -  fellow  of  his  in 
these  early  days.  About  this  time  the  boy  was 
attacked  by  one  of  those  fevers,  so  serious  in 
childhood  and  dreaded  by  mothers,  and  Mme. 
Verlaine  tended  him  with  the  whole-souled  devotion 
of  which  she  afterwards  gave  many  proofs.  During 
his  convalescence  Paul  felt  the  growth  in  his  heart 
of  an  entirely  new  sentiment — that  of  filial  love. 
Hitherto  he  had  loved  his  mother,  as  all  children 
do,  with  a  sort  of  animal  instinct,  from  habit,  but 
now  he  realised  his  affection,  he  understood  how 
much  his  mother  loved  him,  and  with  what  tender- 
ness he  ought  to  repay  that  love  ;  to  the  natural 
and  almost,  if  not  altogether,  unconscious  attach- 
ment of  the  child  for  its  mother,  succeeded  a  filial 
love  both  human  and  genuine. 

"  This  sentiment,  powerful  and  sweet,  and, 
above  everything,  good,"  wrote  Verlaine,  "showed 
itself  first  of  all  by  a  surprising  and  heartfelt 
submission,  accompanied  by  a  delicious  desire  to 
weep.  No  tisane  was  too  bitter,  no  medicine  too 


SCHOOL  DAYS  33 

disagreeable  to  draw  from  me,  when  offered  by 
my  mother,  aught  else  than  a  smile,  almost  I 
might  say  of  beatitude,  and  when  the  cure  was 
complete,  ardent  embraces,  warm  and  tender  kisses, 
moistened  with  burning  tears  on  her  cheeks  and 
her  hands ;  how  refreshing  to  my  poor  childish 
heart,  so  pure  then  and  always  when  I  think  of 
my  mother ;  to  my  poor  man's  heart,  unhappy 
through  my  own  fault  and  the  fault  of  having 
her  always  with  me,  especially  now  that  she  is 
dead.  .  .  .  But  no,  she  lives,  my  mother,  in  my 
heart,  and  I  swear  to  her  here  that  her  son  lives 
with  her,  cries  upon  her  breast,  suffers  for  her, 
and  has  never  for  an  instant,  even  in  his  worst 
errors,  or  rather  weaknesses,  felt  himself  without 
her  protection,  her  reproaches,  and  her  encourage- 
ments." (Confessions,  Part  I.) 

These  are  excellent  words.  Perhaps  Verlaine, 
writing  forty  years  afterwards,  may  have  ex- 
aggerated the  gratitude  and  love  he  felt  at  eight 
years  of  age  for  his  kind  mother.  Like  sorrow, 
filial  love  is  a  fruit  that  needs  a  good  strong 
branch  to  sustain  it. 

In  this  veneration,  very  lawful  and  laudable 
for  his  adorable  mother,  of  which  Verlaine  after- 
wards gave  many  proofs,  particularly  in  his 
writings,  there  was  a  touch  of  literary  recollection. 
We  know  what  admiration,  perhaps  excessive,  he 
expressed  for  Mme.  Desbordes  -  Valmore,  and 
perhaps  a  certain  filial  canticle  of  the  sweet 
Marceline's  sometimes  sounded  in  his  ears.  The 
perfume  of  filial  love,  with  which  he  was  wholly 
impregnated,  particularly  at  the  time  when  he 
wrote  his  Confessions,  was  intermittent,  and  at 
times  evaporated,  but  only  to  reappear  shortly ; 


34  PAUL   VERLAINE 

it  was  a  persistent  aroma.  It  even  happened  that 
Verlaine  was  once  accused  by  an  over  -  zealous 
magistrate  of  having  desired  to  make  his  mother 
die — of  sorrow  perhaps  !  Not  otherwise,  assuredly. 
No  matter  how  quarrelsome  he  might  be,  in 
consequence  of  inflaming  libations,  anger,  and 
still  less  hatred,  never  found  a  place  in  his  heart. 
Verlaine  had  the  warmest  sentiments  of  affection 
for  his  family.  His  grief  at  the  death  of  his 
father  was  sincere  and  deep ;  and  afterwards  he 
experienced  great  sorrow  when  he  heard  of  the 
loss  of  his  cousin  Elisa.  This  young  woman, 
older  than  himself,  had  always  loved  and  spoiled 
him,  had  had  a  hand  in  his  bringing  up,  and 
furnished  the  necessary  funds  for  printing  the 
Poemes  Saturniens.  She  married,  rather  late, 
a  sugar  manufacturer  in  the  north,  near  Douai, 
and  died  in  childbed.  Verlaine  has  described  his 
mournful  sensations  during  his  miserable  journey, 
in  the  rain  and  icy  wind  of  winter,  through  the 
sad  Douaisian  country,  and  his  arrival,  covered 
with  mud  and  soaked  with  rain,  at  the  house  of 
mourning,  from  whence  he  followed  through  the 

"  incessant  downpour,  his  cousin,  his  dear,  ever 
regretted,  good,  well  -  beloved  Elisa,  borne  by 
eight  old  women,  in  long,  black  mantles  with 
immense  hoods  like  nuns,  and  unaffected  sorrow 
on  their  faces,  for  she  had  been  very  kind  to 
the  poor!  ..." 

Although  he  had  caught  glimpses  of  rather  than 
known  his  son  Georges,  an  infant  at  the  time  of 
the  separation,  Verlaine  felt  a  real  affection  for 
the  child.  It  was  not  only  a  conventional  and 


SCHOOL  DAYS  35 

correct  sentiment,  a  paternal  pose,  but  a  genuine 
instinctive  tenderness,  unreasoning  and  impulsive. 

After  the  little  school  in  the  Rue  Helene,  where 
the  scholars  were  mere  babes,  Paul  was  sent  to 
a  large  and  important  establishment  in  the  Rue 
Chaptal,  the  Institution  Landry,  which  has  only 
recently  been  broken  up.  The  pupils  were  pre- 
pared by  classes  at  the  Lycee  Bonaparte,  and  the 
College  Chaptal,  for  the  baccafaurdat  and  special 
schools.  The  head  of  the  establishment,  M. 
Landry,  was  ill,  it  was  therefore  conducted  by  his 
brother,  M.  Fortune,  a  great  mathematician, 
irreverently  nicknamed  by  the  boys  the  "  Pere 
Pointu."  He  was  an  excellent  man,  very  strong 
in  "x  y  z,"  cosinus  and  logarithms,  but  rather 
ignorant  of  other  things.  One  prize  distribution 
day  (I  was  for  some  time  a  day  boy  at  this 
school),  I  asked  him  if  I  might  recite  a  poem 
by  Victor  Hugo  (Le  Regiment  du  Baron  Madruci). 
He  scratched  his  head  and  asked:  " Whose  is  the 
poem?"  "Victor  Hugo's."  "Ah!  Victor  Hugo? 
The  one  who  writes  in  the  newspapers  ?  .  .  ." 

The  school,  however,  prided  itself  on  having 
turned  out  some  remarkable  men,  notably  Sainte- 
Beuve,  and  the  engineer  C.  de  Lapparent.  Paul 
Verlaine  was  an  ordinary  pupil  to  begin  with.  He 
found  it  difficult  at  first  to  become  accustomed  to 
boarding-school  life,  and  even  went  so  far  as  to 
escape  on  the  day  of  his  arrival,  taking  advantage 
of  the  door  by  which  the  day  boys  went  out. 
He  ran  off  home,  his  hair  disordered  by  his  haste, 
and  throwing  himself  into  his  parents'  arms  began 
to  cry.  They  lectured  him  till  he  promised  to  allow 
himself  to  be  taken  back  to  school ;  and  the  next 


36  PAUL  VERLAINE 

day  he  was  re-installed  at  the  Institution  Landry, 
where  he  was  to  remain  for  several  years  and  make 
his  first  communion. 

He  belonged  to  a  circle  which  reverenced  the 
Catholic  traditions.  If  Captain  Verlaine,  like  many 
officers,  was  rather  indifferent  to  the  things  of 
religion,  although  maintaining  a  respectful  attitude 
towards  the  Church,  and  her  time  -  honoured 
authority,  Mme.  Verlaine,  on  the  contrary,  was 
pious,  and  carefully  observed  all  solemn  days. 
Although  as  yet  the  ideas  and  mystical  emotions 
he  was  afterwards  to  experience  in  the  prison  of 
Mons  were  quite  unknown  to  him,  Verlaine  made 
what  is  customarily  called  a  good  first  communion, 
and  after  this  initiation  he  entered  the  Lycee 
Bonaparte,  class  No.  7. 

The  pupils  of  the  Institution  Landry  were 
taken  twice  a  day  to  the  Lyc6e.  In  a  long,  noisy 
and  rather  disorderly  file  the  boys  trooped  down  the 
Rue  Blanche,  the  Rue  Saint- Lazare,  and  the  Rue 
Caumartin,  under  the  guidance  of  a  bearded,  badly- 
shod  usher,  who  was  impatient  for  the  cigarette 
and  absinthe-anis  in  the  Place  Sainte-Croix,  which 
whiled  away  the  time  until  ten  o'clock,  when  the 
return  journey  was  made. 

It  was  at  the  Lyc6e  Bonaparte  that,  as  I  have 
said,  I  first  made  friends  with  Verlaine,  when  we 
were  in  the  second  class  (1860).  He  was  two 
years  older  than  me.  I  was  only  fourteen  while  he 
was  a  big  boy  turned  sixteen — somewhat  young  for 
his  years.  Our  relations  were  hindered  by  the 
school  routine.  I  was  a  day  boy  and  free  from 
all  supervision  out  of  hours,  could  return  home- 
wards just  as  I  liked,  idling  along  the  boulevards, 


SCHOOL  DAYS  37 

looking  in  the  shops,  buying  chestnuts  in  the  winter 
and  iced  drinks  in  the  summer,  according  to  the 
fancy  of  the  moment  and  the  state  of  my  purse ; 
whilst  poor  Paul,  still  a  prisoner,  returned  with  the 
other  boarders  to  the  Rue  Chaptal. 

The  Lycee  Bonaparte  was  composed  of  free 
day  boys,  supervised  day  boys,  and  pupils  from 
institutions  on  the  right  bank  of  the  river,  who  all 
attended  the  various  classes.  We  had  little  oppor- 
tunity to  make  friends  with  the  last-mentioned, 
but  the  bond  of  literature  drew  Verlaine  and  me 
together. 

The  professor  of  the  second  class  was  M. 
Perrens,  a  distinguished  university  man,  author 
of  a  history  of  Savonarola  and  a  conscientious 
work  on  modern  Italy,  a  defence  of  Etienne  Marcel, 
the  great  head  of  the  merchants  of  the  fourteenth 
century.  Verlaine  said  of  him :  "  M.  Perrens 
detested  me  and  detests  me  still."  He  exaggerated 
the  facts  of  the  case.  Our  professors  were  majestic 
personages,  indifferent  to  the  conduct  and  applica- 
tion of  the  greater  number  of  their  pupils.  They 
took  their  classes  in  cap  and  gown,  some  of  them 
having  palms  in  violet  embroidered  on  the  latter,  a 
distinction  in  those  days  peculiar  to  the  University. 
They  rarely  deigned  to  supervise  their  classes, 
occupying  themselves  almost  exclusively  with  ten 
of  the  older  and  more  studiously  inclined  boys 
who  figured  regularly  in  the  lists  of  honours. 
Their  exercises  were  read,  their  compositions  care- 
fully examined,  and  they  were  questioned.  The 
others,  the  insignificants  as  they  were  called,  might 
read  novels,  papers,  and  magazines  during  the 
class,  or,  like  Verlaine  and  me,  write  verses  and 


38  PAUL  VERLAINE 

draw   figures   on   the   margins   of  exercise   books, 
without  fear  of  interruption  or  reprimand. 

One  master  alone  formed  an  exception  to  these 
eminent  pedants  with  their  disdainful  apathy  ;  the 
good,  gentle,  and  slightly  grotesque  English 
master,  M.  Spiers.  With  an  originality  for  which 
he  was  held  in  derision  in  the  Lycee,  even  by 
his  colleagues,  M.  Spiers  directed  and  followed 
all  his  pupils,  questioning  them  and  correcting 
their  exercises.  I  owe  a  debt  to  the  excellent 
man  for  his  conscientious  supervision ;  it  helped 
me  to  take  more  trouble  over  my  exercises,  to 
pay  more  attention  to  the  lessons,  and  afterwards 
to  continue  the  study  of  English.  It  is  impossible 
to  learn  a  living  language  at  a  Lycee,  but  the 
first  idea  of  a  foreign  idiom  can  be  acquired, 
together  with  the  inclination  to  master  it  more 
completely. 

Verlaine,  like  myself,  felt  the  influence  of  the 
good  M.  Spiers.  He  acquired  the  elements  of 
the  English  language  sufficiently  to  be  able,  after- 
wards in  England,  when  led  thither  by  events, 
to  make  himself  understood,  and  even  to  achieve 
a  certain  acquaintance  with  English.  When,  as 
a  man,  he  set  himself  to  study  it  with  enthusiasm 
during  his  stay  in  London,  he  regretted  more  than 
once  that  he  had  not  taken  greater  advantage  of 
the  lessons  of  the  excellent  M.  Spiers,  to  whom 
justice  for  the  first  time  is  doubtless  now  rendered. 
The  good  man  has  been  dead  a  long  time,  and 
this  eulogy  is  simply  an  act  of  homage  to  truth. 

If  each  of  our  professors  had  taken  as  much 
pains  with  his  pupils  as  the  English  master  did, 
we  might  have  been  average  scholars  and  escaped 


SCHOOL  DAYS  39 

the  trouble  we  afterwards  had  to  obtain  our 
diplomas,  and  to  learn,  unaided,  Latin,  Greek, 
and  many  other  things  quite  as  unnecessary  for 
success  in  life  as  for  happiness. 

Good  M.  Spiers,  in  spite  of  his  zeal  and  the  care 
with  which  he  poured  instruction  into  the  little 
brain  pans  inclined  towards  him  in  the  rows  of 
the  English  class,  was  often  obliged  to  close  his 
ears  to  certain  shufflings  of  feet,  rustlings,  and 
buzzings,  transforming  the  place  into  a  hive  in 
which  the  bees  were  drones.  When  the  noise 
became  too  perceptible,  he  distributed  irregular 
verbs  to  be  copied  out  right  and  left.  Sometimes 
he  would  stop  in  the  middle  of  the  lesson  and 
cry  out  with  comical  solemnity  that  he  regarded 
all  conversation  among  the  pupils  as  a  " tacit" 
demand  to  be  sent  out  of  the  room. 

The  professor  of  history  was  M.  Camille 
Rousset,  the  author  of  various  historical  works  on 
Louvois,  the  volunteers  of  the  Republic,  and  the 
conquest  of  Algeria,  who  was  afterwards  made 
an  academician  in  consequence.  Our  literature 
master  was  M.  Deltour,  who  has  left  a  name  in 
the  scholastic  wrorld.  Young,  dark,  bearded,  with 
a  thin  ascetic  face,  he  recalled  a  Sorbonnian  of  the 
sixteenth  century.  He  had,  moreover,  adopted 
for  the  authorship  of  his  works  the  name  of  a 
celebrated  scholar  of  the  Renaissance,  "  Tourne- 
boeuf"  or  "Turnebe."  Racine  was  his  favourite 
author  and  he  quoted  him  on  every  occasion, 
appropriate  or  otherwise.  Naturally  we  preferred 
the  long-haired  romantics  to  the  tragic  bewigged 
one,  and  scandalised  our  Racinian  professor  by 
approving  Auguste  Vacquerie's  blasphemy  that  "in 


40  PAUL  VERLAINE 

the  forest  of  art  Shakespeare  was  a  tree  and  Racine 
a  stake."  We  did  not  always  persist,  however,  in 
this  unjust  comparison,  and  the  penetrating  analyst 
of  Bajazet,  the  subtle  psychologist  of  Andromaque, 
and  the  bold  physiologist  of  Phedrey  received  from 
us  due  meed  of  admiration. 

Verlaine  soon  returned  to  his  allegiance  for 
Racine,  impelled  thereto  by  the  delicate  intoxication 
he  experienced  from  inhaling  the  aroma  of  the 
poesies  of  Madame  Desbordes-Valmore,  that  sweet 
violet  in  the  field  of  poetry,  for  whom  he  had  always 
an  admiration  which  amounted  to  a  cult. 

Our  class  numbered  more  than  fifty  pupils.  I 
have  discovered  a  list  of  the  places  obtained  for  a 
composition  in  which  I  was  sixth  and  Verlaine 
fourteenth.  Several  names  figure  in  it  which  have 
since  become  known  :  Richelot,  famous  surgeon 
and  physician ;  Humbert,  also  a  surgeon ;  Paul 
Stapfer,  well-known  University  man;  Marius  Sepet, 
religious  publicist  and  biographer  of  Joan  of  Arc ; 
Abel  d'Avrecourt,  poet  and  critic ;  Albert  Millaud, 
one  of  the  chief  editors  of  the  Figaro,  parlia- 
mentary reporter  and  dramatic  author,  whose  joyous 
repertoire  made,  with  the  aid  of  Judic,  the  fortune 
of  the  Vari6ti6s ;  Ducloux,  accomplished  notary  ; 
Destailleurs,  orientalist ;  Marzoli,  republican  publi- 
cist ;  Vernhes,  pastor ;  Hay  em,  dilettante  and 
humorist ;  Heugel,  music  publisher ;  Lespdrut, 
distinguished  diplomatist ;  and  lastly,  that  excellent 
Antony  Jeunesse,  who,  under  the  nickname  of  the 
proprittaire,  had  the  happiest  of  reputations  in 
the  Quartier  Latin,  where  he  was  for  a  number 
of  years  the  leading  spirit,  while  at  the  same  time 
one  of  the  most  active  of  republican  agitators.  It 


SCHOOL  DAYS  41 

will  thus  be  seen  that  in  the  rhetoric  class  alone, 
in  the  Lycee  Bonaparte  in  1862,  there  were  many 
budding  notorieties.  Two  of  our  comrades  com- 
mitted suicide — one  from  want.  This  unfortunate, 
named  James  de  Rothschild,  lost  money — thirty- 
five  millions  at  cards.  He  was  the  son  of  Nathaniel 
de  Rothschild,  a  fair,  timid,  amiable  young  man, 
who  studied  law  and  figured  in  the  list  of  solicitors. 
Being  unable  to  pay,  and  his  family  considering 
thirty-five  millions  was  too  large  a  sum  for  them 
to  think  of  furnishing,  the  poor  heir  of  so  many 
millionaires  blew  out  his  brains — the  victim  of  a 
name.  A  Rothschild  cannot  play  for  ordinary 
stakes. 

I  stated  elsewhere  that  our  poet  was  an 
assiduous  student,  sometimes  one  of  the  best,  and 
was  confronted  with  Verlaine's  own  contradiction, 
he  having  confessed  himself  an  idler,  to  whom 
punishments  were  not  wanting.  This  was  true, 
generally  speaking,  yet  especially  in  rhetoric  he 
studied  well.  Latin  greatly  interested  him ;  he 
made  rapid  progress,  and  at  the  prize  distribution 
received  rewards  for  Latin  translation  and  French 
composition. 

I  can  positively  assert  that  he  seriously  went  in 
for  rhetoric,  and  was  really  interested  in  that  branch 
of  knowledge,  instruction  in  which  was  given  more 
in  the  form  of  a  lecture  than  of  a  class.  He  paid 
great  attention  to  any  information  which  went 
beyond  the  range  of  the  day's  lesson,  M.  Deltour 
being  wont  to  dwell  upon  subjects  outside  the  par- 
ticular one  he  was  explaining.  For  instance,  one 
day  he  read  us  a  piece  of  verse  by  a  poet  who,  far 
from  being  classical,  was  a  revolutionary  and  a 


42  PAUL   VERLAINE 

romanticist :  H6g£sippe  Moreau,  a  poet  of  the 
people.  The  piece  was  entitled  "  Recollections  of 
a  Hospital,"  and  was  a  ballad  with  a  melancholy 
refrain,  after  Villon,  in  which  the  poet,  comparing 
his  own  case  with  that  of  his  predecessor  when  he 
was  expiring  in  the  hospital,  bemoans  his  wretched- 
ness and  desolation,  curses  the  age  in  which  he 
lives  and  weeps.  Verlaine  did  not  appreciate  this 
lachrymose  verse,  and  later  on  declared  that  he 
took  little  interest  in  suffering  in  a  hospital.  The 
remembrance  of  M.  Del  tour  must  have  counted  for 
something  in  his  persistent  reprobation  afterwards. 

Without  being  very  strong  in  themes  Paul  was 
a  good  enough  rhetorician,  and  the  list  of  honours 
bears  witness  to  the  fact  that  the  University  did 
recognise  now  and  then  in  both  of  us  youthful 
knowledge  and  aptitude  which,  it  must  be  confessed, 
were  somewhat  irregular  and  intermittent.  We 
put  into  practice  Fourier's  theory  with  regard  to 
attractive  work,  and  did  our  tasks  in  rhetoric  well 
because  rhetoric  pleased  us. 

My  powers,  however,  like  Verlaine's,  were 
restricted,  and  in  Latin  declamation,  Latin  transla- 
tion, and  more  especially  French  composition  alone 
did  we  rank  with  the  promising  pupils.  In  the 
sciences,  and  principally  geometry  and  trigonometry, 
we  were  absolute  failures,  whence  it  happened  that 
in  our  finals  we  got  ill-omened  red  marks  for  the 
science  oral  examination. 

I  became  fast  friends  with  Verlaine  in  conse- 
quence of  a  school  task,  a  French  composition  which 
he  rendered  in  verse,  attracting  thereby  the  sarcasm 
of  M.  Deltour  and  all  my  sympathy.  I  waited  for 
the  author  of  the  poem  when  the  class  was  over  and 


SCHOOL  DAYS  43 

congratulated  him.  We  at  once  exchanged  our  last 
attempts  at  poetry,  freshly  blown,  and  by  the  evening 
seemed  like  old  friends. 

After  this  we  kept  up  our  relations  by  the  inter- 
change of  books,  copies  of  poems,  and  confidences. 
We  showed  one  another  our  effusions,  and  discussed 
their  merits. 

To  complete  these  details  of  Verlaine's  student 
life  I  may  say  that  the  Bachelor  of  Letters  degree 
was  rather  difficult  to  obtain  in  those  days,  and  that 
Verlaine  took  it  by  storm  on  leaving  the  Lycee, 
i.e.,  on  the  strength  of  his  University  training  alone  ; 
while  I  thought  it  prudent  to  cram  up  in  two 
months  special  classes  with  the  excellent  professor, 
M.  Herbault,  the  examiner  at  Chaptal  and  Fontanes, 
who  died  nine  years  ago,  and  whom  I  had  the 
pleasure  of  knowing  up  to  the  end. 

A  certificate  delivered  to  the  H6tel-de-Ville 
when  Verlaine's  application  for  employment  was 
being  considered,  stated  that — 

"I,  the  undersigned,  head  of  the  institution, 
certify  that  the  young  Paul  Verlaine  studied  in 
this  institution  from  October  1853  to  JU^Y  1862  > 
that  he  attended  with  the  success  indicated  by 
several  prizes  the  courses  of  instruction  at  the  Lyce"e 
Bonaparte,  from  the  sixth  to  philosophy  exclusively  ; 
that  his  conduct  was  that  of  a  good  pupil,  and  that 
he  has  completed  excellent  studies,  receiving  the 
degree  of  Bachelor  of  Letters  at  the  end  of  his 
rhetoric.  I  have  only  an  excellent  report  to  make 
of  this  pupil,  who  is  one  of  the  many  distinguished 
students  the  establishment  can  number. 

"  Signed:  Landry,  32,  Rue  Chaptal." 

It  may  be  seen  from  this  sort  of  certificate  of 


44  PAUL  VERLAINE 

study  which  without  being  compulsory,  was  advan- 
tageous for  the  classification  of  candidates  for  the 
Government  offices  that  Verlaine  was  by  no  means 
the  idler  and  ignoramus  he  made  out.  It  was 
always  his  pleasure  to  make  the  worst  of  himself. 
His  biographers,  M.  Ch.  Donos  among  others,  has 
been  wrong  in  attaching  too  much  credence  to  his 
Confessions,  in  which  he  often  poses  as  one  of  the 
most  deplorable  of  failures.  His  good  work  as 
a  student  gave  him  a  real  appreciation  for  the 
classics.  He  often  expressed  his  liking  for  Latin ! 
Everything  he  wrote  was  certainly  influenced  by 
his  excellent  and  arduous  University  studies,  un- 
suspected as  they  were  by  several  of  his  disciples, 
and  by  a  singular  perversity  concealed  by  himself. 


PAUL   VERLAINE. 
Aged  Two  Years. 


CHAPTER   III 

YOUTH — COUNTRY  PLEASURES — FIRST  POETICAL  ESSAYS 
(1862-1864) 

HAVING  finished  his  studies,  and  obtained  his  degree, 
Paul  Verlaine  went  into  the  country  to  spend  his 
vacations  with  his  mother's  relatives  at  Artois. 
He  also  went  to  see  his  Aunt  Grandjean,  in  the 
Ardennes. 

Verlaine  was  intensely  patriotic,  both  in  the 
wide  and  the  narrow  sense,  as  citizen  and  as 
native.  Just  as  his  love  for  his  mother  in  no  way 
diminished  his  affection  for  his  father,  and  the 
reverent  esteem  in  which  he  held  his  memory,  so 
his  attachment  to  Arras,  Fampoux,  Arleux,  and 
Roeux,  his  mother's  country,  did  not  prevent  his 
finding  pleasure  in  the  country  round  Bouillon  and 
Sedan,  near  the  banks  of  the  Semoy,  where  his 
father  was  born.  He  divided  his  love  for  his 
native  land  between  the  plains  of  the  north  and 
the  wooded  slopes  of  the  Ardennes. 

He  has  several  times  affectionately  described 
the  scenery  of  Bouillon  with  its  aisles  of  greenery 
of  every  shade,  affording  glimpses  of  the  blue  sky 
beyond ;  fir  trees,  beeches,  and  ash  trees,  and  above 
them  the  feudal  castle  with  its  heavy  posterns  and 
thick  walls,  once  furnished  with  oubliettes  which  are 

45 


46  PAUL   VERLAINE 

now  mere  purposeless  cavities.  He  has,  although 
not  much  of  a  gastronomist,  lauded  the  trout  of  the 
Semoy,  calling  them  divine.  Later  on  will  be  found 
letters  in  which  he  vaunts  the  charm  of  the  plains 
of  Artois  and  the  marshes  of  Fampoux. 

He  had  a  strong  feeling  for  the  land  which  had 
given  him  birth  ;  and,  in  spite  of  his  irregular  habits, 
errors  of  conduct,  singularities  of  character,  vices 
real  and  imaginary ;  in  spite,  moreover,  of  those 
friends  and  circumstances  of  his  which  would  seem 
most  likely  to  destroy  such  sentiments,  he  always 
retained  his  respect  for  the  flag,  his  love  for  his 
fatherland,  his  hope,  as  his  Ode  to  Metz  proves,  for 
the  renaissance,  military  territorial,  and  moral,  of 
France.  He  became  an  outcast,  a  vagabond,  a 
pariah,  but  never  a  cosmopolitan,  a  renegade,  nor  a 
bad  patriot.  As  long  as  patriotism  is  honoured 
as  a  noble  sentiment  and  a  virtue,  Paul  Verlaine 
must  be  regarded  from  this  point  of  view  as  an 
honourable  and  virtuous  citizen. 

Verlaine  often  stayed  in  Artois,  where  his 
mother  was  born ;  its  melancholy  had  a  charm 
for  him — particularly  in  early  life.  He  loved  to 
wander  through  the  fields,  breathing  the  morning 
air  and  brushing  through  the  dew.  At  one  time 
he  even  went  in  for  shooting,  and  after  such 
expeditions  with  what  satisfaction  he  would  sit 
down  to  table  in  the  inn !  He  loved  all  the  life 
of  the  north :  the  warm  smoky  interiors,  which 
Van  Ostade  has  painted  ;  the  beer,  a  horrible  bitter 
Flemish  drink  which  has  no  point  of  resemblance 
with  the  creamy  beer  of  Bavaria ;  the  great  draughts 
of  sourish  black  coffee  in  which  chicory  predo- 
minated ;  the  tobacco  which  he  obtained  at  a  very 


YOUTH  47 

cheap  price — thanks  to  the  smugglers.  How  he 
would  smoke  and  break  the  brown  and  red  clay 
pipes  with  their  protruding  tufts  of  tobacco,  lighting 
them  again  and  again  at  the  brazier  with  its 
glowing  cinders,  for  the  nicotian  weed  is  always 
rather  damp  in  that  part  of  the  country. 

In  the  village  ale-house  he  would  spend  long 
hours  dressed  like  a  rustic  seated  at  a  table,  his 
legs  stretched  out  in  the  attitude  of  one  of  Adrian 
Brauwer's  figures,  smoking  and  sipping  with  evident 
satisfaction  the  bitter  draughts  of  coffee,  mingled 
with  brandy,  which  are  called  "  Bistouille."  He  had 
no  affinity  with  the  south ;  he  used  to  declare  that 
he  did  not  like  the  sun,  and  that  the  full  noontide 
dizzied  and  overwhelmed  him ;  I  do  not  think  he  ever 
passed  the  southern  boundary  of  Paris  except  for  a 
cure  at  Aix-les- Bains  and  his  short  stay  at  Mont- 
pellier  as  a  child.  He  never  visited  Spain,  although 
he  had  a  great  admiration  for  Castilian  literature, 
and  placed  Calderon  de  la  Barca  almost  above 
Shakespeare.  He  once  determined  to  learn  Spanish 
by  himself,  and  wrote  to  me  on  the  roth  September 
1864  to  ask  me  to  lend  him  my  Spanish  dictionary. 
But  I  do  not  believe  he  made  any  serious  progress 
in  the  language  of  Cervantes,  and  certainly  after- 
wards he  forgot  all  he  had  ever  learned.  He 
intended  to  translate  Calderon's  drama  For  Secret 
Outrage,  Secret  Vengeance,  but  this  project  was 
never  realised.  His  access  of  Hispaniolatry  was 
confined  to  admiration,  proved  and  reiterated  for 
the  author  of  The  Physician  of  His  Honour, 
and  to  the  loan  of  my  Spanish  dictionary,  to  which 
I  added  Sobrino,  a  grammar  of  the  Castilian 
language. 


48  PAUL   VERLAINE 

Longer  than  his  love  for  Spain  Verlaine  retained 
his  rural  tastes.  During  the  last  years  of  his  life 
he  could  only  gratify  them  to  the  extent  of  choosing 
in  preference  to  any  other  hospital  that  of  Tenon, 
which  is  situated  on  the  heights  of  Belleville,  near 
the  fortifications.  Although  I  did  my  utmost  to 
persuade  him  to  come  for  a  rest  to  my  house  on 
the  outskirts  of  Paris,  and  he  promised  a  hundred 
times  to  accept  my  cordial  hospitality,  he  could 
never  make  up  his  mind  to  board  the  train  for 
Bougival.  Everything  was  ready  for  his  reception  ; 
a  room  fresh  and  gay  looking  out  upon  the  Seine, 
with  the  green  poplars  of  the  Isle  of  Croissy 
opposite,  a  table  for  work  with  French  and  English 
dictionaries,  and  a  collection  of  ancient  and  modern 
poets  ;  moreover,  ajar  of  tobacco,  a  choice  of  pipes, 
clay,  wood,  and  meerschaum,  a  divan  for  siestas,  a 
boat  in  which  to  idle  along  the  banks,  and  cool 
green  arbours  wherein  to  enjoy  a  drink  and  listen 
to  the  song  of  the  birds.  But  all  this  was  power- 
less to  move  him ;  he  remained  rooted  in  the 
Quartier  Latin.  Once  I  really  thought  I  had  suc- 
ceeded in  enticing  him  ;  he  even  accompanied  me 
to  the  Gare  Saint- Lazare,  but  at  the  last  moment 
left  me  under  the  pretext  of  posting  a  letter,  and 
I  did  not  come  across  him  again  until  half  an  hour 
later  when,  tired  of  waiting,  I  went  for  my  train. 
He  was  seated  at  a  table  in  a  cafe"  near  the  station 
before  a  large  glass  containing  a  jade-coloured  fluid, 
evidently  the  successor  of  several  others.  Intoxica- 
tion had  already  set  in,  and  he  obstinately  refused 
to  accompany  me,  alleging  an  important  appoint- 
ment with  a  publisher  for  that  evening,  but  faith- 
fully promising  to  come  the  next  day.  I  went  off 
shaking  my  head.  ...  He  never  came. 


YOUTH  49 

Although  he  seldom  wrote  sylvan  verse  he 
always  yearned  after  the  life  of  the  fields,  and  that 
he  appreciated  rustic  pleasures  when  he  was  quite 
young  the  following  letters  written  in  1862  testify. 
A  portrait  taken  at  this  period  represents  him  clad 
in  a  blouse,  and  having  all  the  appearance  of  a 
countryman. 

"L£cLUSE,  i6th  September  1862. 

"  MY  DEAR  LEPELLETIER, — As  I  do  not  know 
your  address  (I  was  then  spending  my  vacation 
at  Riceys)  I  write  on  the  chance  to  the  Rue 
Laffitte  in  the  hope  that  as  soon  as  my  letter  is 
received  you  will  answer  it,  if  only  with  a  few 
words.  Without  further  preamble  I  may  tell  you 
that  I  have  been  accepted  (as  a  Bachelier-es-Lettres], 
fortune  favouring  me  on  i6th  August,  the  day  of 
my  oral.  I  had  white  for  my  translation  and  red 
for  my  discourse.  For  the  oral  I  had  all  red 
except  one,  generously  conceded  me  by  the  history 
examiner ;  one  is  not  a  pupil  of  Rousset's  for 
nothing.  The  next  day  I  packed  up,  and  the  day 
after  I  was  in  the  country.  I  have  therefore  one 
month  in  which  to  breathe  pure  air  and  clear  my 
head  and  lungs,  all  dizzy  yet  with  Greek  and 
mathematics,  in  the  atmosphere  of  the  fields  ;  here 
without  more  thought  than  Colin  Tampon  has  for 
Demosthenes  and  his  logic,  or  the  sum  of  the 
angles  of  a  triangle,  free  as  air,  my  dear  fellow, 
and  joyful  as  a  liberated  prisoner,  I  am  giving 
myself  up  to  the  pleasures  of  the  country, 
to  wit — walking,  fishing,  and  shooting.  Walking 
and  fishing  were  set  aside  when  hunting  began, 
which  in  this  fortunate  northern  district  is  on 
6th  September,  and  truly  I  am  not  so  bad  at  it. 
I  came  home  yesterday  with  an  enormous  rabbit 
I  had  shot ;  but  there  is  a  knack  in  it  as  Gavroche 
would  say. 

D 


50  PAUL   VERLAINE 

"What  I  shall  do  after  the  holidays  I  have 
not  made  up  my  mind.  My  parents  are  in  favour 
of  the  law,  and  I  think  on  the  whole  they  are  right, 
so  I  may  keep  my  terms.  However,  as  I  said, 
nothing  is  decided  at  present. 

"  And  you,  my  dear  Lepelletier,  what  are  you 
doing?  Are  you  still  in  the  country?  If  so,  and 
you  fish,  shoot,  or  ride,  give  me  in  your  next  full 
details  of  your  exploits  in  these  several  directions. 
Or  have  you  gone  back  to  Paris  ?  Oh,  in  that 
case  send  me  a  whole  budget  at  once.  I  am  a 
Tantalus  thirsting  for  news  ;  do  not  withhold  the 
fruit  and  water  from  my  parched  mouth  ;  write  to 
me  at  the  earliest  possible  moment,  tell  me  all 
about  the  new  publications,  acquaint  me  with  every- 
thing that  is  going  on  in  town,  let  me  know  all 
there  is  to  be  known — the  more  the  better. 

"  Tell  me  also  a  little  about  yourself.  Are  you 
working  up  for  your  degree  ?  When  do  you  go  up  ? 
What  do  you  intend  to  do  when  you  have  passed  ? 
Have  you  finished  reading  Les  Mistrablesl 
What  is  your  opinion  of  that  splendid  epic  ?  For 
my  part,  I  have  arrived  at  the  end  of  the  second 
volume  of  the  Idylle  Rue  Plumet,  so  that  I  cannot 
pass  a  final  judgment  on  it.  Up  to  the  present 
my  impression  is  favourable ;  it  is  great,  fine,  and, 
above  all,  it  is  good.  Christian  charity  illuminates 
the  gloomy  drama.  Even  its  faults,  and  they  are 
enormous,  have  an  air  of  greatness  which  attracts. 
This  hoary  book,  compared  with  Notre  Dame  de 
Paris,  Victor  Hugo's  undoubted  masterpiece,  gives 
me  the  impression  of  an  old  man,  but  a  fine  old 
man,  with  white  hair  and  beard,  of  commanding 
figure  and  sonorous  voice  like  the  Job  of  the 
Burgraves,  beside  a  young  man  with  aristocratic 
features,  proud  and  courtly  manners,  waxed 
moustache,  his  rapier  drawn  ready  for  the  fray. 
The  young  man  pleases  the  most,  he  is  more 


COUNTRY  PLEASURES  51 

brilliant,  more  attractive,  handsomer,  but  the  old 
man,  lined  and  furrowed  though  he  be,  is  more 
majestic,  and  his  gravity  has  something  holy  in  it, 
which  the  liveliness  of  the  young  man  lacks. 

"  '  A  flame  glows  in  the  eyes  of  the  young, 
But  in  the  eyes  of  the  old  there  is  light.' 

At  this  point,  my  dear  Lepelletier,  I  must  leave 
you.  You  will  write  to  me  very  soon,  will  you  not  ? 
My  respects  to  your  parents,  and  for  yourself  a 
hearty  shake  of  the  hand. — Thy  friend, 

"  VERLAINE. 

"My  address  is:  M.  Paul  Verlaine,  chez  M. 
Dujardin,  a  L^cluse  (Nord),  par  Arleux." 

Here  is  the  second  letter  of  those  holidays, 
mingling  regret  for  town  and  literature  with 
pleasure  in  life  in  the  country.  In  this  second  letter 
a  landscape  is  described  in  the  classic  manner  by 
the  escaped  rhetorician. 

"  L^CLUSE,  tfh  October  1862. 

"  MY  DEAR  LEPELLETIER, — At  last  I  can  take 
up  my  pen  for  a  little  talk  with  you ;  I  may  tell  you 
that  latterly  my  time  has  been  entirely  occupied 
with  the  Ducasses.  These  are  the  village  fetes 
which  succeed  one  another  with  a  rapidity,  which, 
by  my  faith,  is  highly  injurious  to  the  legs  and 
stomach — the  former  especially.  So  if  I  have  been 
rather  dilatory  in  writing  to  you  it  has  not  been 
my  fault,  and  I  hope  you  will  not  be  angry  with 
me.  With  these  words  of  excuse,  let  us  to  our 
subject.  You  are  right,  there  are  a  hundred  things 
to  say,  and  one  forgets  ninety-nine.  Thus,  for 
example,  in  my  quality  as  a  more  or  less  descriptive 
poet  do  I  not  owe  you  a  picture  of  the  '  place  which 
olds  me,'  as  Boileau  romantically  puts  it?  Here 


52  PAUL  VERLAINE 

it  is ;  with  it  I  will  commence  my  letter,  and  after 
such  splendour  of  colouring  it  will  seem  to  you  a 
veritable  desinere  in  piscem. 

"  Lecluse  is  a  large  town  of  nearly  two 
thousand  inhabitants,  furnished  with  a  mayor  and 
two  assistants.  The  town  is  not  in  itself  of  an 
exclusively  transcendental  picturesqueness.  The 
one  street  of  which  it  is  composed  is  implacably 
straight  and  clean  as  a  new  pin,  with  two  gutters  if 
you  please,  and  two  footpaths — the  Rue  de  Rivoli 
in  miniature !  The  roofs  are  red  tiled.  As  to  the 
surrounding  country,  it  has  nothing  remarkable 
except  some  marshes  shaded  by  trees  of  all  sorts, 
poplars,  elms,  willows,  set  about  with  reeds  and 
water  -  lilies,  white  and  yellow,  and  bordered  all 
round  with  chickweed,  cress,  and  forget-me-not. 

"  Sometimes  I  go,  book  in  hand,  and  seat  myself 
before  the  melancholy  Flemish  landscape,  remaining 
there  for  hours,  dreamily  following  in  their  uncertain 
flight  the    blue   king-fisher,   the  green  dragon-fly, 
or  the  pearl-hued  wood-pigeon.    The  fields,  properly 
speaking,  are  fertile  but   monotonous.     Picture  to 
yourselves   entire    plains    of    beetroot,    intersected 
occasionally   by   roads,    scantily   shaded    by   aspen 
trees,    standing   something   like   thirty   feet   apart. 
"However,  I  must  be  just ;  manufacture,  which 
reigns  despotically  in  this  Department,  has  not  yet 
chased  away  all  poetry,  and  I  have  two  woods,  not 
large  it  is  true,  but  charming ;    up  hill  and  down 
dale,  with  many  a  shady  path  and  glade  echoing  with 
the  song  of  blackbirds  and  doves.     They  might  be 
the  scene,  these  woods  that  I  love,  of  those  delightful 
fairy  plays  of  the  great  William's  wherein  Oberon 
and  Titania  dance,  Rosalind  bewitchingly  torments 
her  Orlando,  trees  produce  sonnets,  and  madrigals 
spring   up   like    mushrooms.     I    am    compelled   to 
confess  that  Nature  is  not  so  poetical  as  that  here, 
and  there  are  more  nuts  than  sonnets,  and  black- 


COUNTRY  PLEASURES  53 

berries  than  madrigals ;  but  that  does  not  prevent 
these  woods  from  delighting  me,  nor  me  from  losing 
my  way  very  often  for  the  pleasure  of  losing  it, 
just  like  one  of  George  Sand's  heroes. 

"Now,  shall  I  tell  you  of  my  Ducassesl  Of 
Homeric  feasts  and  impossible  balls?  It  would 
need  the  irony  of  Heinrich  Heine,  or  the  pencil 
of  Hogarth,  to  give  you  an  idea  of  the  fantastic 
quadrilles  in  which  whirl  round,  moved  as  by  strings, 
big  creatures  clasping  plump  beauties  clad  in  light 
robes  (my  love  of  truth  prevents  me  from  adding, 

0  Scribe!)  'of  an  extreme  whiteness/     All  this  to 
the  noise   of  a   chaotic  orchestra :    mad  clarionet, 
hoarse  piston,  intemperate  violin  and  triangle,  yes, 
triangle,  held   by   a   child   who   strikes   it   noisily, 
neither  more  nor  less  than  the  little  Bohemian  his 
kettle  in  Noire  Dame  de  Paris.     That,  my  dear 
friend,  is  the  orchestra  which  has  made  me  dance 
for  six  consecutive  days.     But  spare  your  pity,  there 
were  not   only   red-cheeked,   untidy  peasants,   but 
several  charming  girls — Parisians — and  among  them 
the  daughter  of  the  head  of  one  of  the  institutions 
whose    pupils    attend    Bonaparte,     Mdlle.     Hiolle, 
with  whom   I   had  the  honour  of  dancing  several 
quadrilles. 

"  As  to  my  return,  I  have  not  made  up  my  mind. 

1  think,  however,  the  time  is  not  far  distant ;  indeed, 
it  is  very  possible  that  in  a  fortnight   I  shall  see 
this  overgrown  Paris  of  ours  again,  and  shake  your 
hand  in  person.     Meanwhile,  write  to  me  as  soon 
as   you   can.     Have  you  seen  Dolores,   Bouilhet's 
new  drama?     The  papers  speak   in   praise   of  it. 
There    is    in    the   second    act    a    serenade   which 
Roqueplan  of  the  Constitutions  I  quotes  at  length 
in  his  paper,  and  which  is  charming.     My  father, 
although  his  pains  have  not  left  him  since  we  came, 
is   a   little  better,   and  we   all  hope  for   a   speedy 
recovery. 


54  PAUL   VERLAINE 

"  Adieu,  dear  friend,  excuse  this  rigmarole,  and 
answer  it  soon. — Your  friend, 

"  PAUL  VERLAINE. 

"Chez    M.    Dujardin,    a    Le"cluse,    par   Arleux 
(Nord)." 

Our  schoolboy  friendship  was  strengthened  and 
placed  on  a  regular  footing  by  the  establishment  of 
relations  between  our  two  families.  My  mother, 
daughter  of  an  army  man,  promoted  to  the  L6gion 
d'Honneur,  made  great  friends  with  Mme.  Verlaine, 
and  my  father,  whose  brother  was  an  officer  in  the 
Zouaves  in  Africa,  was  soon  on  good  terms  with  the 
Captain,  who,  much  preoccupied  with  his  unfortunate 
investments,  demanded  endless  appreciations  of  the 
shares  on  the  Bourse.  After  formal  calls  we  ex- 
changed invitations  and  afterwards  every  week,  and 
almost  regularly  every  Wednesday  evening,  the  day 
on  which  my  mother  held  her  modest  weekly  recep- 
tions, the  Verlaines  came  to  take  a  cup  of  tea, 
preceded  by  a  little  music.  I  was  one  of  the 
instrumentalists.  I  avoided  the  musical  section 
as  much  as  possible,  being  a  very  unenthusiastic 
pianist,  and  awaited  with  impatience  the  com- 
mencement of  the  customary  game  of  whist  or  loo, 
the  predecessor  of  poker,  which  constituted  one  of 
the  amusements  of  these  middle-class  parties.  On 
another  day  the  Lepelletiers  went  up  the  Rue  Saint- 
Louis  to  the  Batignolles ;  and  there  was  another 
edition,  with  the  exception  of  the  piano,  of  our 
evenings.  From  time  to  time  we  dined  with  one 
another. 

We  took  advantage  generally,  Paul  and  I,  in  the 
course  of  these  visits  and  homely  receptions  of  the 


FIRST  POETICAL  ESSAYS  55 

noise  of  conversation  or  interest  in  the  entertain- 
ment, to  retire  to  our  own  rooms  in  order  to  talk 
freely  on  literary  subjects,  and  show  one  another 
our  attempts  at  verse,  while  smoking  many  pipes — 
for  already  we  had  discarded  the  youthful  aspirations 
of  the  cigarette.  We  always  went  to  one  another's 
houses  laden  with  books.  Verlaine's  little  library 
was,  if  not  better  furnished,  at  least  in  a  different 
manner  from  mine,  more  classical  and  historical.  It 
included  a  certain  number  of  new  books,  which  were 
a  sort  of  initiation  for  me.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
volumes  which  Verlaine  found  in  my  shelves  certainly 
had  an  influence  on  his  culture.  I  lent  him  Victor 
Hugo,  of  which  I  possessed  a  complete  set,  i.e.,  up  to 
Les  Misdrables  in  the  edition  Hachette;  Jean  Jacques 
Rousseau,  then  my  favourite  author ;  and  the  book 
which  was  at  that  time  the  catechism  of  unbelievers, 
Force  et  Matiere,  by  Dr  Buchner.  We  had  some 
odd  volumes  of  Balzac,  Cadot  edition,  which  we 
completed  as  far  as  we  could  on  the  quays.  He 
made  me  acquainted  with  Les  Fleurs  du  Mai, 
edition  Poulet-Malassis,  which  I  was  eager  to  buy 
in  order  to  have  for  my  own  so  precious  a  treasure ; 
the  Ensorcele'e  by  Barbey  d'Aurevilly  ;  two  volumes 
of  a  poet  then  altogether  unknown  ;  the  Poemes 
Antiques,  and  the  Poemes  Bar  bares,  by  Leconte 
de  Lisle;  the  Emaux  et  Camees,  by  Theophile 
Gautier,  in  a  little  edition  in-i8  with  a  rose- 
coloured  cover,  very  rare  nowadays  ;  the  Cariatides, 
by  Thdodore  de  Banville  ;  the  Vignes  Folles,  by 
Albert  Glatigny  ;  and  last  of  all  a  work  which  I 
considered  very  wearisome,  but  which  Verlaine 
seemed  to  prize  highly,  the  Histoire  de  Port  Royal, 
by  Sainte-Beuve. 


56  PAUL   VERLAINE 

This  hotch-potch  of  books,  which  formed  our 
earliest  reading,  is  interesting  in  the  analysis  of 
the  formation  of  an  intellect.  We  read  with 
avidity  anything  that  fell  into  our  hands.  The 
library  of  Sainte-Genevieve  and  a  reading-room 
facing  the  Sorbonne  supplied  us  with  the  material 
for  the  foundation  on  which  a  literary  future  was 
to  be  built.  We  read  pell-mell,  telling  each  other 
of  books,  and  passing  them  on :  the  Greek  classics 
badly  translated  at  the  Lycee  and  regarded  as  im- 
positions ;  the  historians  Michelet,  Henri  Martin, 
Vaulabelle,  Louis  Blanc;  the  philosophers  Descartes, 
Nicole ;  one  or  two  works  by  Proudhon,  whose 
Justice  dans  la  Revolution  et  dans  P  Eglise  had  been 
suppressed ;  Emile  Saisset ;  Jules  Simon ;  many 
books  of  criticism  ;  Villemain  and  his  pictures  of  the 
literature  of  the  sixteenth  century  ;  Philarete  Chasles 
and  his  Moyen-Age  ;  Sainte-Beuve  and  his  Lundis  ; 
Taine  and  his  Histoire  de  la  Literature  Anglaise ; 
the  ancient  chroniclers :  Palma  Cayet,  Montluc, 
and  D'Aubigne  whom  we  admired  especially  as  the 
passionate  poet  of  the  Tragiques,  forerunners  of 
the  Chdtiments ;  the  Vedic  poems  which  M.  Fauche 
had  just  translated ;  the  Ramayana  or  some  parts 
of  the  Maha-Bharata  ;  foreign  drama  :  Shakespeare, 
Calderon,  Lope  de  Vega,  Goethe ;  all  sorts  of 
publications  with  regard  to  the  French  Revolution 
and  some  English  novels  :  Dombey  and  Son,  and 
David  Copper  field,  by  Dickens,  and  Vanity  Fair, 
by  Thackeray.  We  possessed  nearly  all  the  classics 
Latin  and  French ;  and  some  second  -  rate  but 
picturesque  and  imaginative  authors,  such  as  Petrus 
Borel  and  Aloysius  Bertrand,  the  delicate  fantasist, 
whose  Gaspard  de  la  Nuit  in  the  original  edition, 


FIRST  POETICAL  ESSAYS  57 

procured  at  Angers,  enchanted  Verlaine.  The 
poet's  private  literary  education,  in  reaction  against 
the  University  teaching  was  almost  exclusively 
romantic.  It  was  the  fashion  at  this  period  to 
swear  by  Victor  Hugo ;  exile  adding  majesty  to  the 
authority  of  genius.  There  was  more  Hugolatry  in 
1860  than  at  any  other  time  since  1830.  The  Con- 
templations seemed  to  us  the  very  Bible  of  poetry. 
In  spite  of  party  spirit  the  Chdtiments  was  less 
admired ;  its  poetical  inspiration  degenerating  too 
often  into  gross  invective.  The  plays  of  Victor 
Hugo  were  considered  the  last  word  of  scenic  art. 
We  despised  Ponsard,  Scribe,  Emile  Augier,  Octave 
Feuillet,  and  all  the  "common-sense"  school,  and 
backed  the  passionate  effusions  of  Auguste  Vacquerie 
against  everything  that  was  not  disorderly,  violent, 
truculent  and  enthusiastic.  It  was  the  epoch  of  the 
sonnet  A  Don  Quichotte.  Barbey  d'Aurevilly  who 
was  afterwards  to  laugh  at  the  Parnasse,  and  to 
caricature  us  individually,  delighted  us,  and,  in  spite 
of  the  retrograde  opinions  he  vaunted,  his  articles  in 
the  Pays  were  devoured  every  week.  But  his 
diatribes  against  Victor  Hugo,  keeping  pace  with 
the  publication  of  the  volumes  of  Les  Misdrables, 
aroused  indignation.  We  forgave  them,  however, 
because  of  his  many  brilliant  acute  criticisms,  which 
branded  feeble  writers  and  thieves  of  fame  with  a 
red-hot  iron. 

Verlaine  was  a  Republican,  with  a  certain  lean- 
ing towards  those  in  authority  and  mystics.  He 
greatly  admired  Joseph  de  Maistre.  The  Rouge 
et  Noir  of  Stendhal's  made  a  strong  impression 
upon  him.  He  unearthed,  I  do  not  know  where, 
a  Life  of  St  Theresa,  which  he  read  with  a 


58  PAUL   VERLAINE 

rapture  I  was  far  from  sharing.  Yet  he  was  not 
a  believer  in  those  days  ;  if  he  frequently  visited 
the  churches,  it  was  as  an  artist,  and  for  the 
objects  of  art  they  contained.  Saint  -  SeVerin, 
Saint-German-des-Pres,  and  Saint-Sulpice  with  its 
two  superb  frescoes  by  Eugene  Delacroix,  received 
his  especial  homage.  He  also  liked  to  listen  at 
this  period  to  two  famous  preachers,  Pere  Monsabre 
and  Pere  Minjard. 

Verlaine's  literary  debut,  when  he  first  came 
before  the  public  in  the  form  of  print,  took  place 
in  1866  (in  the  journal  UArt,  and  verses  pub- 
lished in  Le  Hanneton),  but  his  first  attempts 
date  back  at  least  to  the  year  1860.  They  were 
only  crude,  unpolished  efforts,  the  disjointed, 
stammering  phrases  of  a  child  in  the  world  of 
literature.  Of  these  rough  drafts,  torn  up,  burnt 
and  lost,  no  trace  now  remains.  Verlaine  pre- 
served nothing,  not  even  a  memory  of  these 
poetic  babblings.  The  first  piece  of  verse  that  he 
afterwards  considered  worth  printing  was  entitled 
Nocturne  Parisien.  It  is  a  picturesque  and 
detailed  description  of  the  Seine,  dedicated  to  me, 
and  included  in  Poemes  Saturniens.  I  carefully 
preserved  the  original,  or  at  least  a  fair  copy  of 
the  rough  draft  which  Verlaine  had  thrown  away, 
so  that  when  the  idea  of  including  it  in  his  first 
volume  of  poems  occurred  to  him,  he  had  to  apply 
to  me.  He  had  passed  it  to  me  in  class,  hidden 
in  some  book  while  the  professor  of  Latin  rhetoric, 
the  good  M.  Durand,  initiated  us,  in  a  gentle  un- 
convincing voice,  in  the  beauties  of  the  Electro, 
of  Sophocles. 

Jules  de  Goncourt,  referring  to  this  first  attempt, 


FIRST  POETICAL   ESSAYS  59 

wrote    to    Verlaine    when    thanking    him    for    the 

Poemes  Saturniens  : 

"You  have  this  real  gift,  originality  of  idea  and 
exquisite  arrangement  of  words.  Your  poem  on 
the  Seine  is  a  fine  thing,  sinister  and  menacing 
as  a  morgue  at  Notre  Dame.  You  feel  for,  and 
suffer  with  Paris,  and  the  age  in  which  you 
live.  .  .  ." 

Verlaine,  alluding  to  these  destroyed  efforts 
which  he  called  detestable,  speaks  of  a  sketch  of 
a  drama  on  Charles  VI.,  the  first  act  of  which 
takes  place  at  a  masked  ball  when  the  king  is 
on  the  verge  of  madness.  The  legendary  forest 
where  the  monarch  is  assailed  by  a  savage,  half- 
crazed  charcoal  burner  whose  appearance  provokes 
the  royal  dementia,  and  episodes  in  the  Hundred 
Years'  War  were  to  constitute  the  principal  scenes 
in  the  piece.  He  also  mentioned  his  idea  for  a 
play  in  which  Charles  V.,  Etienne  Marcel,  and 
King  John  were  to  be  the  principal  characters. 
Finally,  he  dreamed  of  a  Louis  XV.  in  six  acts, 
in  which  Damiens  would  appear  avenging,  with 
his  pocket-knife,  the  sister  carried  off  and  shut 
up  in  the  Parc-aux-Cerfs. 

None  of  these  projects  were  realised.  His 
dramatic  work  was  confined  to  the  comedy  Les  Uns 
et  les  Autres  which,  except  for  his  unlucky  benefit 
at  the  Vaudeville,  and  private  performances  among 
friends,  was  not  played  in  a  regular  manner.  I  have 
the  commencement  of  a  play  entitled  the  Forgerons, 
our  collaboration  in  which  was  interrupted  by  the 
war,  the  Commune,  Verlaine's  marriage,  and  the 
events  following  after  it;  and  the  scenario  of  a 


60  PAUL   VERLAINE 

fairy  play.  He  also  began  a  Louis  XV I  I.,  of 
which  a  fragment  has  been  published,  the  only 
part,  I  believe,  he  completed.  The  first  act  of 
the  Forgerons  was  written,  and  a  little  more  of 
the  dialogue,  while  the  rest  had  not  got  beyond 
the  stage  of  analysis  and  scenario.  Perhaps  some 
day  I  shall  complete  this  interesting  and  original 
play  which,  as  a  psychological  picture  of  the 
working-man,  was  a  forerunner  of  L'Assommoir. 

No  unpublished  dramatic  MSS.  by  Verlaine 
are  therefore  in  existence.  On  the  other  hand, 
there  must  be  in  the  portfolios  of  old  friends 
fragments  of  unpublished  verse — perhaps  complete 
short  poems.  The  poet  in  his  youth,  and  even 
later,  for  he  sent  me  from  the  prisons  of  Mons 
and  Brussels,  enclosed  in  his  letters,  a  large  number 
of  fragments  of  Sagesse,  had  a  habit  of  slipping 
verses  and  drawings  into  his  correspondence  with 
his  friends.  In  later  life  he  was  careful  not  to 
lose  literature  which  might  be  transmuted  into 
gold,  although  sometimes,  unfortunately,  containing 
alloy ;  but  in  those  days  he  scattered  at  random  in 
his  letters  pieces  of  verse,  often  of  a  high  standard, 
which  he  could  have  included  in  his  printed  volumes 
without  a  blush.  He  was  later  to  regret  this  waste 
of  good  material.  After  having  declared  in  his 
Confessions  that  he  had  not  cared  to  publish  any- 
thing bearing  too  evident  traces  of  youthfulness, 
he  altered  his  opinion. 

"  Since  changing  my  mind,  I  hardly  know  why, 
I  have  searched  among  the  not  inconsiderable 
remainder  of  my  old  papers,  once  innumerable  and 
in  what  disorder !  with  the  intention  of  giving  some 
idea  of  my  style  of  writing  in  those  days,  but  found 


FIRST  POETICAL  ESSAYS  61 

absolutely  no  trace  of  any  early  attempts.  Yet 
there  must  have  been  at  least  as  much  interesting 
material  as  was  contained  in  the  Poemes  Saturniens 
when  they  appeared  in  the  first  collection  of  Poetes 
Contemporains,  Alphonse  Lemerre,  in  the  last 
month  of  1867."  (Confessions,  Part  I.) 

This  should  read  in  the  last  months  of  1866  or 
the  first  months  of  1867,  for  the  original  edition 
of  the  Poemes  Saturniens  bears  this  statement  on 
the  last  sheet:  "  Imprimd  par  D.  Jouaust  le  vingt 
Octobre  mil  huit  cent  soixante- six  pour  A.  Lemerre, 
libraire  a  Paris."  The  volume  which  appeared 
on  the  same  day  as  Le  Reliquaire  by  Francois 
Coppe'e,  and  after  del.  Rue  et  Foyer,  by  L.-X.  de 
Ricard,  was  the  third  issued  by  Lemerre,  after  his 
dtbut  as  publisher,  and  his  shop  was  indicated  as 
the  editing  and  publishing  office  of  the  paper  LArt, 
December  to  January  1866. 

Verlaine  added  to  the  above  statement : 

"All  that  has  survived  this  not  very  regret- 
able  shipwreck  is  two  sonnets,  one  of  which  was 
published  two  years  ago,  at  the  time  of  a  series 
of  lectures  in  a  Liege  paper — if  I  am  not  in  error ! 
What  devil  unearthed  the  ancient  raven?  It  was 
entitled  L  Enterrement,  and  the  first  line  ran  : 

"  '  Je  ne  sais  rien  de  gai  comme  un  enterrement ! ' 

The  other  was  published  recently  in  the  literary 
column  of  an  evening  paper  by  some  one  signing 
himself  '  Pegomas,'  whom  I  thank  for  his  good 
intention."  (Confessions,  Part  I.) 

Always  careless,  and  scarcely  following  the 
newspapers,  Verlaine  had  not  read  the  Echo  de 


62  PAUL  VERLAINE 

Paris,  in  which,  in  a  sympathetic  article  about 
himself,  I  had  reproduced  the  sonnet  UEnterre- 
ment,  found  amongst  my  papers,  very  carefully 
preserved,  classified,  and  arranged  in  packets  since 
1871  ;  but,  previous  to  that  date,  scattered,  lost, 
or  destroyed  by  my  agitated  mother  on  the  eve 
or  subsequent  to  political  investigations  or  re- 
searches of  which  I  was  the  object,  under  the 
Empire  and  after  the  Commune.  A  large  number 
of  letters  and  unpublished  poems  and  fragments  of 
Verlaine's,  going  back  over  the  years  before  the 
war,  that  I  possessed  had  thus  disappeared. 

The  sonnet  U  Enter rement,  which  was  repro- 
duced in  La  Plume  of  ist  July  1896,  was  reprinted 
in  the  volume  of  CEuvres  Posthumes.  Librairie 
Le"on  Vanier,  A.  Messein,  successeur,  1903.  This 
sonnet,  dated  5th  July  1864,  is  in  the  ironic  and 
morbid  style  to  which  Verlaine  frequently  resorted 
afterwards.  The  piece  is  a  rather  precise  com- 
position, the  details  of  the  funeral  ceremony  paving 
the  way  for  the  final  breakdown  of  the  covetous 
heirs,  who  find  it  impossible  to  dissimulate  their 
joy,  in  spite  of  the  solemn  demeanour  proper  for 
the  occasion. 

As  to  the  other  sonnet,  A  Don  Quichotte,  I 
published  it  in  my  literary  column  in  the  journal 
Paris,  which  I  signed  with  the  pseudonym 
Pegomas,  and  Verlaine  afterwards  reproduced  it 
with  comments.  With  regard  to  the  un- Spanish 
"  Hurrah ! "  in  the  first  triplet,  he  said  : 

"  Now  better  informed,  and  understanding  that 
the   local    colour   makes    me   appear   as    ridiculous 
as  when  I  first  wrote  the  sonnet,  I  have  replaced 
the    British   exclamation    by   the   proper    *  O116 ! ' ' 
(Confessions,  Part  I.) 


FIRST  POETICAL  ESSAYS  63 

In  regard  to  the  Vers  de  Jeunesse,  which  figure 
in  the  edition  of  the  (Euvres  Posthumes,  I  will 
say,  for  the  sake  of  accuracy,  and  without  attach- 
ing any  other  importance  to  it,  that  the  sonnet 
A  Don  Juan  is  by  me.  It  appeared,  under  the 
pseudomyn  "Fulvio,"  in  the  journal  L'Art  (1866), 
and  was  the  first  thing  of  mine  published.  The 
poet  mentions,  among  these  efforts  of  his  early 
youth,  another  piece  of  verse  and  a  poem  : 

"An  imitation,  oh,  so  unconscionably  audacious, 
and  oh,  so  bad  of  the  Petites  Vieilles  by  Baudelaire 
and  a  Crepitus,  in  the  pessimistic  manner,  in  which 
after  a  description  of  the  interior  of  a  ditch,  out 
of  malodorous  mud  —  naturally  —  supernaturally 
appears  the  God  who  delivers  a  very  bitter  speech 
utterly  disdaining  humanity,  his  mother  included ! 
Here,  again,  I  can  only  recall  the  first  two  lines 
of  the  long,  perhaps  too  long,  harangue  of  the 
strange  divinity.  But  these  lines,  they  are  good 
are  they  not  ? 

"  '  Je  suis  PAdamastor  des  cabinets  d'aisance, 

Le  Jupiter  des  lieux  has  .  .  . ' "  (Confessions,  Part  I.) 

Verlaine  had  a  great  taste  for  parody.  He 
wrote,  in  a  spasm  of  gaiety,  the  day  after  an 
excursion  we  had  made  to  1'Villette,  U Ami  de 
la  Nature,  a  song  in  realistic  slang,  a  forerunner 
of  the  Montmartrois  species,  and  I  remember  we 
composed,  in  collaboration  with  Fran£ois  Coppee, 
two  laments  to  the  air  of  Fualdes,  one  at  the 
time  of  Berezowsski's  attempt,  in  the  Bois  de 
Boulogne,  on  the  Emperor  of  Russia,  and  the 
other  in  connection  with  a  notorious  crime,  the 
Frigard  poisoning  case,  at  Fontainebleau.  Verlaine, 


64.  PAUL   VERLAINE 

moreover,  published  various  triolets  and  satiric 
quatrains,  such  as  the  epigram  on  the  photograph 
representing  Alexandre  Dumas,  in  shirt  sleeves, 
holding  Miss  Ada  Menkin,  the  lovely  horsewoman 
of  the  Pirates  de  la  Savane,  on  his  knees,  in  a 
very  suggestive  attitude. 

Verlaine  spasmodically  loved  broad  farce,  and 
some  time  before  the  war,  after  having  carefully 
wrought  the  delicate  F£tes  galantes,  and  rendered 
enthusiastic  by  an  idiotic  vaudeville  played  at 
the  Galte-Rochechouart  called  La  Famille  Beau- 
trouillard,  he  determined,  with  his  friend  Viotti, 
to  undertake  a  similar  farce  to  be  called  Veau- 
cochard  et  Fits  Ier. 

He  wrote  to  me  (no  date;  I  imagine  from 
the  allusion  to  the  F£tes  galantes  that  this  letter 
was  written  at  the  end  of  the  year  1869): 


"  Friday 

"  MY  DEAR  COLLABORATOR.  —  Does  it  not  appear 
to  you  time  to  announce  those  Forgerons  (the  play 
of  which  I  have  already  made  mention)  ?  There- 
fore could  you  not  write  to  the  address  of  the 
clock-man  (Victor  Cochinat,  dramatic  critic  to  the 
Nain  Jaune,  an  allusion  to  the  sign  of  the  clock- 
shop  of  the  Porte-  Saint-  Denis,  Victor  Cochinat 
being  a  black  man)  who  finds  the  Parnassians 
such  '  vilains  bonshommes*  (an  epithet  from  which 
resulted  the  monthly  meeting  of  poets  and  artists, 
known  as  the  dinner  of  the  Vilains  Bonshommes 
[wicked  good-men]),  a  note  something  like  the 
following  :  '  Our  colleague,  M.  Edmond  Lepelletier 
(I  was  then  editor  of  the  Nain  Jaune)  is  now 
putting  the  finishing  touches  to  a  great  prose 
drama  in  five  acts  and  40,000  tableaux  entitled 


FIRST   POETICAL   ESSAYS  65 

the  Forgerons,  which  he  has  written  in  collabora- 
tion with  the  celebrated  Paul  Verlaine.  The  latter, 
a  delicate  poet,  the  much  praised  author  of  that 
great  work,  the  Poemes  Saturniens,  and  that  charm- 
ing fantasy,  the  Fetes  galantes,  is  also  the  author, 
in  collaboration  with  M.  Lucien  Viotti,  of  an  opera- 
bouffe,  which  we  believe  will  be  a  startling  success, 
and  the  title  of  which  is,  up  to  the  present,  Veau- 
cochard  et  Fils  Ier.  The  manner  of  the  telling  I 
leave  to  you,  MM.  OfTre  -  un  -  bock  (Jacques 
Offenbach),  Herve',  Leo  Delibere,  Lecoq,  and 
tutti  quanti  ...  I  count  on  you. 

"I  did  not  come  on  Wednesday,  and  shall 
not  go  out  again  for  ninety-nine  days,  because 
Veaucochard  must  be  finished,  produced,  and  played 
here  in  a  month  or  two.  I  am  going  to  break 
this  rule  to-day  by  going  to  dine  in  the  Quartier 
Ninacum  (at  Mme.  Nina  de  Callias's  house  in  the 
Rue  Chaptal)  with  Sivrot  (Ch.  de  Sivry)  and  Cross 
Carolus  (Charles  Cros,  author  of  the  Coffret  de 
santal,  and  one  of  the  inventors  of  the  telephone). 
Moreover  on  Wednesday  I  intend  to  honour  your 
rooms  with  the  presence  of  your  grudging 

"  P.  VERLAINE. 

"P.S.  —  Come  and  see  me  at  the  'Ville', 
why  not?" 

This  Veaucochard  et  Fils  Ier  was  it  ever  com- 
pleted ?  I  am  not  even  certain  that  it  was  seriously 
commenced.  Lucien  Viotti  was  a  charming  young 
man,  but  indolent  in  the  extreme.  With  his  leisurely 
manner  and  his  melancholy  sweetness  I  cannot 
easily  imagine  him  making  Veaucochard  and  his 
son  talk  in  burlesque  couplets.  I  have  not  an 
idea  what  this  operetta,  qualified  as  comic,  could 
be  like.  Verlaine  was  at  the  time  very  much 
taken  with  the  musical  comedies  of  Offenbach  and 


66  PAUL  VERLAINE 

Herve.  Le  Serpent  a  Plumes  enchanted  him,  and 
he  greatly  admired  the  lie  de  Tulipatan.  He  was 
often  with  Charles  de  Sivry,  his  future  brother-in-law, 
an  accomplished  musician,  playing  all  sorts  of  parts, 
parodying  all  the  masters,  and  a  very  clever  counter- 
pointest  composing  mad  galops  and  brisk  refrains  in 
polka  time.  It  was  undoubtedly  this  gay  composer 
who  aroused  in  him  his  taste  for  operettas. 

Later  on  Verlaine  gave  Emmanuel  Chabrier, 
the  composer  of  Espana,  the  scenario  of  an  operetta, 
which  was  re  -  written  and  re-staged  and  played 
under  the  title  of  LEtoile,  and  under  the  name  of 
another  author.  Paul  was  to  have  written  specially 
for  this  piece  the  song  of  the  Pal,  the  first 
couplets  of  which  Chabrier  sang  to  us ;  they  began 
thus: 

"  Le  Pal 
Est  de  tous  les  supplices 

Le  principal 
II  commence  en  delices 

Le  Pal, 
Mais  il  finit  fort  mal.  .  .  ." 

Verlaine,  besides  deigning,  in  an  interval  between 
two  delicate  or  powerful  poems,  to  offer  sacrifices 
to  the  frivolous,  sometimes  vulgar  muse  of  the 
operetta  and  the  cafe-concert,  occasionally  took 
part  in  burlesque  charades  which  we  improvised. 
Once  he  even  sang  a  small  role  in  a  musical 
burlesque  entitled  the  Rhinoceros,  of  which  I  was 
the  author,  and  which  was  afterwards  played  more 
than  a  hundred  times  at  the  Theatre  des  Delasse- 
ments  Comiques,  its  bright  gay  music  being  by 
Charles  de  Sivry.  This  was  the  only  occasion  on 
which  Verlaine  ever  sang  in  public,  or  even  among 


FIRST  POETICAL  ESSAYS  67 

friends,  for  Nature  had  not  endowed  him  with  any 
of  the  gifts  of  a  tenor ;  his  voice  being  false,  dis- 
cordant, and  impossible.  My  reason  for  relating 
this  artistic  episode  is  because  the  performance, 
and  in  particular  its  several  rehearsals,  had  a 
decisive  influence  on  Verlaine's  destiny ;  it  was 
the  occasion  of  his  being  introduced  to  Charles 
de  Sivry,  whose  sister  he  was  soon  to  espouse. 

I  had  met  the  strange  little  musician,  Charles 
de  Sivry,  a  long  time  before  at  the  house  of  some 
friends,  M.  and  Mme.  Le6n  Bertaux,  sculptors. 
Mme.  Leon  Bertaux,  afterwards  President  of  the 
Union  of  Women  Painters  and  Sculptors,  and  the 
creator  of  a  remarkable  Baigneuse,  for  which  she 
received  a  medal  from  the  Salon  of  1872,  used  to 
hold  receptions  in  her  studio  in  the  Rue  Gabrielle 
at  Montmartre.  These  soirees,  half  suburban, 
half  artistic,  were  amusing  on  account  of  their 
impromptu  programmes,  the  medley  of  performers, 
and  their  most  unusual  eclecticism.  The  notabilities 
of  the  Butte  found  themselves  cheek  by  jowl  with 
the  Bohemians  of  the  Quartier  Pigalle.  There  were 
performances  of  music  and  charades,  and  once  for 
a  more  formal  occasion,  with  written  invitations,  a 
platform  for  the  performers,  artists  engaged  and 
poets  recruited,  when  Fran9ois  Coppee  recited  his 
fine  piece  the  Aieules,  which  he  had  just  composed, 
I  was  asked  to  compose  a  libretto  for  which  Sivry 
would  write  the  music. 

I  concocted  the  Rhinoceros  (afterwards  enlarged 
and  adapted  for  the  stage),  which  only  contained 
three  characters.  One  of  my  friends,  an  amateur 
comedian  with  a  pleasant  voice,  accustomed  to  per- 
form Berthelier's  repertoire  at  our  little  soirtes,  was 


68  PAUL  VERLAINE 

to  fill  the  role  of  tenor ;  but  he  was  a  traveller  for  a 
great  silk  house  in  the  Rue  des  Jeuneurs,  and  was 
most  inopportunely  compelled  to  set  out  on  a  journey 
some  days  before  the  performance  was  to  be  given. 
Who  was  to  replace  him  ?  I  took  Verlaine  to  a 
rehearsal  in  the  Bertaux  studio,  and  quite  at  a  loss 
how  to  fill  up  the  vacancy  I  said  to  him  :  "  You  help 
us,  old  man,  you  read  the  part,  and  the  rehearsals  can 
go  on  just  the  same  while  I  look  about  for  a  tenor." 
My  suggestion  was  agreed  to,  and  Verlaine  read 
the  part,  by  my  faith,  in  a  manner  so  comic  and 
with  such  burlesque  intonations,  passing  from  the 
deep  bass  of  a  cathedral  chorister  to  the  falsetto 
of  a  ventriloquist,  that  he  bewildered  and  astonished 
us.  His  performance  was  a  blend  of  frigid  burlesque, 
and  airy  tragedy.  What  an  unforgettable  tenor 
and  singular  comedian  he  made.  Mac- Nab  after- 
wards reminded  me  of  him  on  this  occasion.  He 
was  a  cross  between  a  clown  and  an  undertaker. 
All  those  who  were  present  at  the  rehearsal  were 
enormously  amused  (perhaps  the  actual  perform- 
ance was  not  quite  so  funny),  burst  out  laughing, 
and  complimented  the  unexpected  actor.  "You 
resemble  Grassot,"  said  a  painter  named  P6crus. 
The  compliment  was  a  broad  one,  Grassot  being 
at  the  time  the  leading  comedian  at  the  Palais- 
Royal  and  the  king  of  buffoons  with  his  famous 
gnouf !  gnouf !  which  Verlaine  unconsciously  repro- 
duced, by  reason  of  a  little  hoarse  cough  which 
punctuated  his  words. 

It  must  be  confessed  that  in  those  days  Verlaine's 
physiognomy  was  one  of  the  most  extraordinary  it 
is  possible  to  conceive.  When  he  was  first  intro- 
duced to  my  parents,  his  close-cropped  head,  beard- 


FIRST  POETICAL  ESSAYS  69 

less  chin,  deep-set  eyes,  thick  straight  eyebrows, 
Mongolian  cheek-bones  and  flat  nose,  so  took  my 
mother  aback  that  she  uttered  an  ejaculation  of 
terror.  "  Mon  Dieu  !  "  she  said  to  me  after  he  had 
gone,  "your  friend  made  me  think  of  an  orang- 
outang escaped  from  the  Jardin  des  Plantes." 

At  the  time  of  the  performance  of  the  Rhinoceros 
a  beard  had  begun  to  clothe  Verlaine's  chin,  his  eyes 
had  acquired  the  expression  of  a  faun's,  his  smile — 
and  he  laughed  often  and  heartily — extended  his 
mouth  from  ear  to  ear,  which  made  it  irresistibly 
comic ;  and  lastly  he  affected  the  Banvillesque 
method  of  speech,  clipping  his  words  with  his 
teeth,  and  emphasising  them  with  his  forefinger 
pointed  forward  and  then  solemnly  uplifted.  Clad 
in  a  tan  -  coloured  macfarlane,  dirty  from  long 
usage,  with  a  tall,  black  hat  on  his  head  and  a 
cane  in  his  pocket,  he  produced  a  regular  sensa- 
tion. This  dMU  remarked,  if  not  remarkable,  led 
to  nothing.  Verlaine  never  even  saw  the  Rhinoceros 
on  the  stage. 

Among  the  audience,  crowded  together  on  the 
chairs  which  furnished  the  Bertaux  studio,  were 
the  entire  family  Maute,  invited  as  belonging  to 
the  Montmartrois  notabilities ;  the  young  Mathilde 
Maute,  half-sister  of  Charles  de  Sivry,  being  one 
of  them.  This  was  the  first  time  she  saw  her 
future  husband.  He  doubtless  paid  scarcely  any 
attention  to  the  little  girl,  then  classed  among  the 
insignificant,  and  lost  in  the  crowd,  whom  nobody 
troubled  about.  Perhaps,  on  the  other  hand,  the 
strangeness  of  the  poet,  performing  absurdities 
in  the  role  of  grotesque  lover,  made  an  impression 
on  her,  and  later,  when  they  met  in  the  Rue  Nicolet 


70  PAUL  VERLAINE 

and  were  introduced,  as  if  they  had  never  seen  one 
another  before,  the  recollection  of  the  soiree  at  the 
Bertaux  studio  won  doubtless  for  the  saturnine 
poet,  doubled  by  a  clown,  a  look  of  curiosity  and 
an  amiable  reception.  Clowns,  comedians,  and 
stage  buffoons,  even  the  ugliest,  perhaps  especially 
when  they  are  very  ugly,  have  always  an  inex- 
plicable attraction,  and  their  conquests  are  innumer- 
able. It  was  probably  the  comic  character  in  the 
Rhinoceros,  rather  than  the  poet  of  the  Ffoes 
galantes,  who  won  for  Verlaine  the  smile  and  soft 
pressure  of  the  hand,  with  a  compliment  at  the 
initial  interview.  Perhaps,  but  for  the  Rhinoceros, 
the  tenor  on  journey,  and  the  chance  role  confided 
to  him,  Verlaine  would  never  have  been  led  into 
crossing  the  threshold  of  the  house  in  the  Rue 
Nicolet,  a  paradise  soon  to  be  transformed  into 
hell.  But,  like  books,  operettas  have  their  endings, 
and  our  comic  opera  was,  for  one  of  its  characters, 
to  be  turned  into  a  drama. 

Verlaine,  being  full  of  the  desire  to  write  plays, 
assiduously  attended  alternately  at  Montmartre  and 
the  Batignolles  the  performances  of  the  troupe 
Chotel.  At  that  time,  in  the  two  local  theatres 
which  were  under  the  same  management,  the  bill 
was  changed  every  week.  The  troupes  exchanged 
theatres,  taking  with  them  the  play  they  had 
been  performing  all  the  week,  and  so  both  the 
Batignollais  and  the  Montmartrois  had  a  first  night 
every  Saturday.  They  played  the  dramas  and 
comedies  which  had  been  successful  at  the  Paris 
theatres,  and  when  there  was  a  scarcity  of  novelties 
they  performed  plays  from  the  repertoires  of  the 
Ambigu  and  the  Porte- Saint- Martin,  for  the  pieces 


FIRST  POETICAL  ESSAYS  71 

in  vogue  would  not  have  sufficed,  by  reason  of  the 
weekly  change  of  bill,  to  supply  these  two  local 
theatres.  Good  artistes,  with  Chotel,  the  manager, 
at  their  head,  were  to  be  met  with  in  this 
suburban  company.  On  these  remote  boards, 
Parade,  Daubray,  Nertann,  Priston,  and  many 
others  whose  names  I  forget,  then  beginners  and 
unknown,  afterwards  favourites  at  the  Vaudeville, 
the  Gymnase,  and  the  Palais  -  Royal,  were 
applauded. 

Verlaine  attended  the  performances  in  the 
musicians'  orchestra,  into  which  he  was  introduced 
by  a  friend,  an  amateur  violinist,  a  very  original 
young  man,  even  a  trifle  fantastic,  called  Ernest 
Boutier,  who  disappeared  without  ever  having 
published  anything,  although  he  was  for  a  time 
one  of  the  budding  group  of  Parnassians,  and  had 
doubtless,  like  the  rest  of  us,  in  his  portfolio, 
lucubrations  in  prose  and  verse.  Boutier  played 
a  part  in  the  literary  life  of  our  youth ;  he  it  was 
who  introduced  us  to  the  bookseller  Alphonse 
Lemerre,  and  guided  the  Parnassian  band  to  the 
Passage  Choiseul,  from  whence  issued  the  poetic 
flight  of  1869. 

The  suburban  drama,  the  cafe"  -  concerts  of 
Rochechouart,  and  chamber  operettas,  did  not  by 
any  means  occupy  Verlaine's  whole  attention. 
His  vast  brain  was  open  to  all  branches  of  art. 
We  made  frequent  visits  to  the  Louvre  and  the 
Musee  du  Luxembourg,  and  he  did  not  miss  any 
of  the  picture  exhibitions  then  held  in  the  Palais 
de  1'  Industrie. 

"Come  here  on  Sunday  between  two  and  a 
quarter  past,"  he  wrote  to  me  in  May  1864,  "and 


72  PAUL   VERLAINE 

we  will  go,  if  you  are  agreeable,  to  the  Salon, 
although  it  is  very  bad  this  year."  I  have  given 
the  date,  to  be  precise,  for  Verlaine's  negative 
appreciation  might  be  equally  applied  to  other 
years.  This  was  the  habitual  attitude.  It  is  a 
fact  that  he  went  to  the  Salon  from  habit  and 
for  the  sake  of  having  been  there. 

He  loved  good  music  and  was  one  of  the  first 
who  assiduously  attended  the  concerts  populaires 
established  by  Pasdeloup,  which  have  so  greatly 
contributed  to  the  expansion  and  elevation  of 
musical  taste  in  France.  At  these  concerts  in 
the  Cirque  du  Boulevard  des  Filles-du-Calvaire, 
where  for  the  first  time  the  masterpieces  of 
classical  music,  symphonies  by  Beethoven,  Haydn, 
and  Mozart,  restricted  up  to  that  time  to  the 
aristocratic  subscribers  of  the  Soci6t6  du  Con- 
servatoire, were  performed  before  the  public  for 
a  very  small  fee — it  was  cheap  seats  which  made 
the  success  and  fortune  of  Pasdeloup — and  the 
attendance  was  large,  as  the  following  letter 
shows : 

"  Saturday,  ztfh  (October  1864  ?). 

"Mi  BUENO, — This  is  what  has  been  decided 
by  the  most  reverend  Ernest  (the  violinist  Boutier), 
and  your  humble  servant,  with  regard  to  the  concert 
to-morrow.  I  will  be  with  you  about  half-past 
twelve.  We  will  go  and  fetch  Ernest  in  the 
Passage  Verdeau,  and  from  there  we  will  go  to 
the  Cirque  Napoleon,  where  we  ought  to  arrive 
about  half-past  one,  which  is  not  too  early ;  it  is 
better  to  wait  half  an  hour  and  get  good  seats 
than  have  to  stand  for  three  consecutive  hours, 
or  to  find  the  box  -  office  shut,  which  might 
easily  happen  to-morrow,  as  it  is  the  opening  day, 


s  - 

>  -JS 


FIRST   POETICAL   ESSAYS  73 

unless  we  are  there  beforehand.  So  be  ready 
at  half-past  twelve ;  I  shall  knock  at  your  door 
rather  before  than  afterwards.  Till  to-morrow, 
and  kindest  regards.  PAUL." 

With  the  Bertaux  soiree,  when  Paul  Verlaine 
was  first  introduced  to  the  Maute  family  (1867), 
a  new  era  in  the  poet's  life  commenced.  But 
we  must  go  back  to  Verlaine  as  clerk,  a  period 
of  his  life  which  lasted  seven  years,  from  1864 
to  1871. 


CHAPTER    IV 

VERLAINE      THE      CLERK   SENTRY     DUTY     ON      THE 

RAMPARTS — THE    COMMUNE — DOMESTIC    LIFE     IN 
THE    RUE    NICOLET 

(1864-1871) 

VERLAINE  was  for  seven  years  a  Government 
official.  Having  obtained  his  diploma  as  B  ache  Her 
es-Lettres,  and  satisfied  the  conscription — the  day 
before  the  ballot  his  parents  had  insured  them- 
selves against  the  unlucky  number,  and  he  drew 
an  excellent  one — it  became  necessary  to  think  of 
finding  regular  and  lucrative  employment  for  the 
big  lad  of  twenty.  His  parents,  not  without  reason, 
considered  poetry  an  unremunerative  employment, 
and  cast  about  for  some  other  opening.  A  young 
man  cannot  remain  idle.  He  was  allowed  several 
weeks'  holiday,  which  he  spent  very  happily  at 
Le"cluse  and  Fampoux  with  the  Dujardins  and 
Dehe"es,  wandering  through  the  fields,  drinking 
the  bitter  beer  he  found  so  delicious,  flirting  with 
the  girls  in  the  inns  he  encountered  on  his  walks, 
reviving  himself  with  gin  pick-me-ups,  shooting, 
smoking,  inhaling  through  every  pore  the  vigorous 
country  life  he  loved  and,  between  times,  reading 
for  the  satisfaction  of  his  intellect  the  Ramayana 
of  which  he  said:  "By  Indra!  it  is  fine;  how 
it  puts  the  Bible,  the  Gospel,  and  all  the  effusions 
of  the  Fathers  of  the  Church  in  the  shade." 

74 


VERLAINE   THE   CLERK  75 


On  his  return  to  Paris  while  awaiting  something 
better,  he  began  to  study  law.  He  showed  no 
special  professional  aptitude  ;  it  seemed  doubtful 
whether  he  would  ever  make  a  lawyer  or  a  man 
of  business  ;  vague  official  functions  were  thought 
of.  The  diploma  of  licentiate  might  be  useful  to 
him  in  a  Government  office,  and  he  therefore  began 
to  go  to  the  school  of  law,  but  stopped  half  way 
and  devoted  himself  to  the  study  of  the  drinking- 
shops  on  the  left  bank  of  the  Seine,  and  the 
examination  of  the  ale-houses  in  the  Quartier  Latin, 
where  twenty  years  later  he  was  to  submerge 
will,  talent,  strength,  and  health. 

Captain  Verlaine  knew  nothing  of  these  diver- 
gences beyond  the  range  of  his  attentive  vigilance. 
He  spoke  to  every  one  of  his  desire  to  "  start  Paul." 
On  the  recommendation  of  one  of  his  old  comrades- 
in-arms,  M.  Darcet,  a  retired  officer,  who  was  one 
of  the  Directors  of  an  Insurance  Company,  Paul  pre- 
sented himself  and  was  accepted  at  the  offices  of  the 
"Aigle"  and  the  "  Soleil "  Insurance  Companies, 
now  amalgamated,  and  having  their  headquarters 
in  the  Rue  du  H  elder.  The  combination  was 
managed  by  a  M.  Thomas,  who  styled  himself  "  De 
Colmar"  until  he  became  "  M.  le  due  de  Boi'ano." 

In  order  to  obtain  an  appointment  Verlaine  had 
been  subjected  to  a  course  of  professional  training 
in  writing,  book-keeping,  and  accounts,  by  a  special 
tutor  named  Savouret  in  the  Rue  Faubourg-St- 
Honore,  and  in  the  course  of  several  months  he 
learned  how  to  "write."  The  Bacheliers  es-Lettres 
who  are  turned  out  by  the  Lycees  have  no  aptitude 
for  gaining  their  bread  by  the  use  of  their  pens 
in  an  office.  It  was  impossible  to  admit  the  young 


76  PAUL   VERLAINE 

rhetorician  into  any  Government  office  whatsoever, 
his  tortured  handwriting  at  best  being  only  good 
enough  for  copy  for  the  printers,  who  are  wonderful 
at  deciphering  hieroglyphics. 

After  having  undergone  this  necessary  prepara- 
tion, and  been  instructed  in  the  profound  art  of 
writing  a  business  letter,  Verlaine  was  at  length 
installed  in  front  of  the  rows  of  green  pasteboard 
boxes  in  the  offices  of  the  "  Aigle  "  and  the  "  Soleil." 
This  business  appointment  had  a  more  considerable 
influence  than  might  be  supposed  upon  the  poet's 
existence.  He  was  perforce  sober,  and  in  our 
leisure  time  we  used  to  ramble  together  along  the 
quays,  turning  over  the  cases  of  dusty  books,  and 
hunting  for  pictures  in  the  museums  and  churches, 
and  penetrating,  without  any  educational  aim,  into 
the  heart  of  the  cafe's.  We  had  to  find  places  where 
little  or  no  expense  was  entailed,  for  our  parents 
left  us,  from  motives  both  of  prudence  and  economy, 
with  a  very  slender  purse. 

At  the  end  of  his  first  month  in  business  Verlaine 
received  his  first  instalment  of  salary.  It  was  a  day 
of  days.  It  had  been  arranged  that  he  should  hand 
half  of  it  over  to  his  parents,  retaining  the  remainder 
for  his  personal  expenses  :  dress,  pleasure,  books, 
and  amusements.  Returning  homewards  on  this 
thrice  happy  evening  of  Sainte-Touche,  we  stopped 
once  or  twice  at  various  cafe's,  and  finding  this  a 
pleasant  relaxation,  repetition  soon  converted  it  into 
a  habit.  I  used  to  meet  him  coming  out  of  his 
office  about  five  o'clock,  and  we  would  turn  our 
steps  towards  the  Cafe  d' Orient,  a  vast  establish- 
ment in  the  Rue  de  Clichy.  There  during  the 
prolonged  process  of  having  a  drink  we  talked  on 


VERLAINE  THE   CLERK  77 

every  subject  that  interested  us — literature,  art,  and 
politics — and  Verlaine,  falling  into  the  habit  of  renew- 
ing his  glass  of  green  liquid,  contracted  the  desire 
for  drink  which  at  a  later  date  service  on  the 
ramparts  during  the  siege  was  to  develop  into 
what  seemed  at  certain  periods  of  his  life  a  regular 
disease.  This  craving  for  drink,  which  bordered 
on  dipsomania,  undermined  his  moral  and  cerebral 
stamina,  and  eventually  led  to  his  social  and  even 
intellectual  downfall. 

He  had  entered  the  service  of  the  Insurance 
Company  while  awaiting  an  appointment  in  the 
Government  Offices  for  which  he  had  made  a 
formal  application,  supported  by  M.  Tassin,  a  friend 
of  my  father's,  head  of  the  Custom  House.  After 
having  passed  an  examination  in  writing  and  book- 
keeping, exhibited  his  diploma,  and  furnished  the 
requisite  papers,  he  was  admitted  in  March  1864 
and  appointed  clerk  in  the  municipal  offices  of  the 
9th  arrondissement,  Rue  Drouot,  in  connection  with 
the  marriage  bureau.  After  a  certain  time  in  this 
department  he  passed  into  the  central  offices,  and 
was  appointed  clerk  in  the  Bureau  of  Budgets  and 
Accounts. 

Verlaine  certainly  was  not  a  very  zealous  clerk 
at  the  H6tel-de-Ville ;  his  assiduity  was  inter- 
mittent. On  arrival  at  a  quarter  past  ten  he  signed 
the  book,  cast  an  apprehensive  glance  at  the  pile 
of  documents  before  him,  pushed  them  gently  aside, 
and,  hidden  from  view  by  the  heaps  of  green  paste- 
board boxes  which  stood  on  his  bureau,  unfolded 
the  morning's  paper,  drew  silhouettes,  or  lazily 
rhymed  a  quatrain.  At  noon  he  escaped,  bare- 
headed, from  the  office,  leaving  his  hat  on  the 


78  PAUL  VERLAINE 

peg  as  an  assurance  of  his  presence  in  case  of  a 
visit  from  the  assistant  chief.  He  was  supervised 
only  by  the  head  clerk  named  Guy,  an  honest, 
careful,  and  hard-working  man,  who,  being  chiefly 
desirous  of  obtaining  supplementary  work,  was 
naturally  pleased  with  a  colleague  unlikely  to 
hinder  him.  Verlaine's  duties  consisted  in  issuing 
orders  for  the  payment  of  the  salaries  of  ministers 
officiating  in  Paris  and  cure's  in  the  suburbs. 

Once  out  of  office  Verlaine  made  his  way  with 
a  light  footstep  to  the  Cafe  du  Gaz,  Rue  de  Rivoli, 
where  a  numerous  and  poetical  company  assembled 
every  day.  The  Hotel  -de  -  Ville,  under  Baron 
Haussmann,  was  exceedingly  hospitable  to  literary 
men.  It  is  common  knowledge  that  Rochefort 
passed  through  the  offices,  working  about  as  hard 
as  Verlaine.  Georges  Lafenestre,  Ormand  Renaud, 
Leon  Valade,  Albert  Merat,  all  poets  destined  to 
achieve  a  certain  degree  of  literary  fame  in  the 
course  of  a  prolonged  official  career,  were  among 
the  municipal  employees  who  regularly  frequented 
the  Cafe  du  Gaz.  Later  on,  when  I  was  at  the 
Palais  I  lunched  there  sometimes.  Many  were 
the  conversations  that  took  place  in  this  cafe  among 
poets,  youthful  literary  aspirants,  and  masters  in 
the  art,  who  came  by  invitation.  Rising  above  the 
voices  of  contractors  who,  after  lunching  at  the 
Belle-Gabrielle,  were  wont  to  discuss  tenders  and 
contracts  over  their  coffee,  could  be  heard  noisy 
and  heated  discussions,  on  the  full  rhyme  the  "e" 
mute,  blank  verse,  and  all  the  other  details  of  verse- 
making,  which  for  us  were  of  enthralling  interest. 
We  read  letters  of  literary  advice ;  we  listened  to 
travellers,  such  as  Emile  Element,  then  a  young 


VERLAINE  THE   CLERK  79 


barrister  lately  returned  from  Italy,  who  spoke  with 
enthusiasm  of  that  country  favoured  by  art ;  we 
recapitulated  what  had  been  said  at  the  Saturdays 
of  Leconte  de  Lisle,  down  there  by  the  side  of 
the  Gros-Caillou  ;  we  spoke  of  those  strange  early 
poems  by  a  young  professor  of  English,  named 
Ste"phane  Mallarme,  whose  obscure  and  studied 
style  Verlaine  admired,  and  we  excitedly  read  the 
reviews  and  newspapers  in  which  questions  of 
poetry  and  literature  were  dealt  with.  This  was 
undoubtedly  a  pleasanter  way  of  spending  the 
hour  after  midday  than  in  filling  up  order  forms 
in  company  with  good  M.  Guy. 

Verlaine's  career  at  the  H6tel-de-Ville  could 
hardly  be  called  brilliant.  He  had  not  even 
obtained  promotion  when  the  war  broke  out.  He 
could  not  make  up  his  mind  to  go  in  for  the 
necessary  examination,  very  easy,  but  indispensable, 
for  advancement.  He  by  no  means  regarded 
Government  service  as  the  ideal  employment  for 
himself,  yet  he  made  no  attempt  to  look  for  another 
appointment,  nor  to  engage  in  literature  from  the 
point  of  view  of  making  money.  He  never  thought 
of  leaving  the  "  Ville."  He  believed  himself  tied 
to  his  stool  for  life  like  so  many  others,  and  awaited 
with  a  clerkly  fatalism  the  triennial  increase  in  his 
salary,  composing  verses  meanwhile,  and  not  making 
the  slightest  effort  to  climb  higher.  At  no  period 
of  his  life  did  Verlaine  evince  ambition ;  he  never 
expressed  a  desire  to  attain  any  distinction  whatever. 
Towards  the  end  of  his  life,  inflamed  by  alcohol, 
he  certainly  conceived  the  idea  of  applying  for 
admittance  into  the  Academic,  instigated  by  some 
joke  on  the  part  of  his  companions,  which  for  the 


80  PAUL   VERLAINE 

moment  he  appeared  to  treat  seriously ;  but  only 
for  the  moment,  the  impulse  ceased  with  the  con- 
versation which  gave  it  birth.  He  had  not  to 
regret  any  aspiration  unfulfilled,  any  favour  post- 
poned or  denied,  because  even  at  the  time  when 
no  objection  on  the  score  of  his  irregularities  could 
be  raised  against  him,  he  asked  for  nothing. 

After  the  publication  of  the  Poemes  Saturniens 
and  the  F$tes  galantes,  he  might  have  claimed  the 
academic  honours  recently  instituted  by  M.  Duruy ; 
he  even  refused  to  be  put  up  for  membership  in 
the  Socie'te'  des  Gens  de  Lettres  when  Charles  Joliet 
offered  to  nominate  him.  He  was  indifferent  to 
money.  He  had  the  prospect  of  a  reasonable  com- 
petency in  the  future,  and  that,  doubtless,  caused 
him  to  neglect  occasions  for  advancement ;  yet 
by  passing  an  easy  examination  he  might  have 
increased  his  limited  salary  to  1,800  francs.  He 
made  no  more  effort  to  gain  money  by  his  pen  than 
to  improve  his  official  position.  Now  and  again 
he  would  place  some  article  in  a  literary  paper,  but 
it  would  be  only  an  ephemeral  publication  which 
did  not  pay  for  contributions  like  Le  Hanneton. 
His  productions,  whether  verse  or  essays  in  criticism, 
did  not  come  within  the  realm  of  regular  marketable 
journalistic  work.  At  no  period  of  his  life,  not  even 
when  I  opened  up  to  him  the  columns  of  the  Echo 
de  Paris,  was  he  capable  of  doing  anything  in  the 
way  of  journalism.  It  requires  a  special  knack  to 
be  able  to  turn  out  copy  likely  to  be  appreciated 
by  thousands  of  readers.  Moreover,  journalism, 
even  of  an  exclusively  literary  character,  such  as 
that  into  which  some  of  Verlaine's  companions, 
Mendes,  Coppe"e,  and  Armand  Silvestre  —  then 


VERLAINE  THE  CLERK  81 

riding  an  independent  Pegasus,  were  afterwards 
drawn,  requires  special  qualifications,  precision  of 
mind,  fit  choice  of  subjects,  power  of  expression, 
etc.,  etc.,  which  Verlaine,  irregular  in  everything 
and  a  vagrant  even  in  intellect,  could  never  force 
himself  to  acquire.  He  was  always  the  exact 
opposite  of  a  professional  man  of  letters,  and  had 
neither  the  taste  nor  the  technique  of  a  writer 
who  lives  by  his  writings.  Amateur  virtuoso,  inter- 
mittent observer,  fantastic  dreamer,  he  produced 
literature  as  a  briar  wild  roses,  and  never  troubled 
to  obtain  from  it  any  sort  of  profit.  He  wanted 
his  productions  to  be  read,  but  gave  no  thought 
to  the  number  of  his  readers.  He  published  collec- 
tions of  verse,  because  manuscript  poems  cannot 
be  distributed  among  one's  comrades,  critics,  and 
masters.  He  printed  all  his  first  volumes  at  his 
own  expense,  and  received  very  little  money  from 
the  booksellers,  Lemerre,  Palme,  and  Savine. 

Except  with  Fasquelle  and  Vanier  in  his  later 
years  his  copyrights  represented  nothing.  The 
press,  so  ready  to  hint  evil  of  symbolists  and 
decadents,  having  created  round  the  name,  work, 
and  life  of  Verlaine  that  atmosphere  of  infamous 
notoriety  which  condenses  into  paying  advertise- 
ment, it  was  possible  for  him  to  make  money  out 
of  his  later  and  inferior  verse ;  and  then  only  did 
the  unfortunate  poet  set  about  turning  into  gold  the 
dry  leaves  of  his  manuscripts.  He  achieved  his 
purpose  laboriously,  for  he  had  neither  custom  nor 
tact  to  guide  him  in  his  relations  with  publishers. 
They  did  not  hasten  to  open  their  purses,  for  they 
had  doubts  as  to  the  punctual  delivery  and  sale  of 
any  work  they  might  acquire.  If  Verlaine  succeeded 

F 


82  PAUL  VERLAINE 

in  extracting  a  few  hundred  sous  pieces  from  Vanier, 
who  having  published  the  greater  number  of  his 
works,  did  not  desire  a  competitor  to  appear  with 
the  unpublished,  more  saleable  ones,  it  was  after 
much  bargaining  and  many  entreaties,  vituperations, 
and  threats  not  very  creditable  to  either  party. 
These  bargains,  generally  concluded  in  the  street 
or  in  front  of  a  marble-topped  table,  resembled  a 
second-hand  sale  or  distribution  of  charity  rather 
than  a  literary  man's  formal  contract  with  his 
publisher. 

His  existence  as  Government  clerk  was  tranquil 
and  untroubled  by  official  incident,  yet  in  the  mean- 
while three  events  occurred,  which  had  a  decisive 
effect  on  the  private  life  of  the  poet :  he  married 
(August  1870),  the  war  broke  out,  and  was  followed 
by  the  siege  and  the  Commune. 

Freed  from  military  service  by  his  ballot  number, 
and  having  moreover  furnished  a  substitute,  belong- 
ing by  his  class  (1864)  to  the  reserve  list,  and  as  a 
married  man  exempt  from  inclusion  in  the  effective 
force  of  the  national  guard,  Verlaine  was  perfectly 
at  liberty  to  follow  the  example  of  many  other 
municipal  clerks  and  take  refuge  in  some  duty 
which,  while  it  necessitated  the  wearing  of  uniform, 
made  no  other  call  upon  him.  But  he  was  a 
Republican,  a  good  patriot  all  aflame  with  zeal  and 
ardour  for  the  defence  of  his  duty,  so  he  got  him- 
self appointed  to  the  i6oth  battalion  of  the  Rapee- 
Bercy.  At  this  time  he  was  living  at  No.  2  Rue  du 
Cardinal- Lemoine,  Quartier  de  la  Halle-aux-Vins 
(5th  arrondissement,  Pantheon). 

Honest  Paul  had  the  heart  of  a  hero,  but  the 
physical  capacities  of  a  pantaloon,  which  was  the 


i 


SENTRY  DUTY  ON  THE  RAMPARTS         83 

mocking  nickname  given  to  the  sedentary  National 
Guards.  Great  drawers  of  corks  were  they  in  their 
enthusiasm  for  their  country,  and  the  boldest  of 
strategists  in  front  of  any  counter  or  table  where 
drink  was  to  be  had ;  but  these  soldier  citizens 
were  not  entrusted  with  any  very  important  duties. 
They  were  neither  drilled  nor  commanded,  and 
their  devotion  found  no  practical  outlet.  A  clever 
and  bold  general  would  have  subjected  them  to  a 
severe  course  of  discipline,  and  transformed  them 
into  effective  belligerents — but  Trochu  was  not  such 
a  one. 

Verlaine's  battalion  was  stationed  among  the 
southern  forts  between  Issy  and  Montrouge.  We 
did  not  meet  during  the  war,  although  when  the 
1 3th  Corps  de  Mezieres  returned  we  were  not  far 
from  one  another.  My  regiment  the  69th  of  the 
line,  defended  the  redoubt  of  the  Hautes-Bruyeres 
between  Montrouge  and  Villejuif.  Armed  with  a 
heavy  gun,  Verlaine  gloomily  mounted  guard  with 
a  resignation  less  and  less  patriotic.  He  was 
quickly  discouraged,  and  very  soon  tired  out ;  and 
only  too  willing  to  rest  from  the  warlike  exercises, 
he  considered  superfluous  and  harassing,  in  the 
friendly  shelter  of  some  canteen.  National  defence 
made  the  soldier  citizens  very  thirsty,  and  Verlaine 
was  promptly  put  at  the  head  of  the  deep  drinkers 
of  the  battalion,  the  majority  of  which  were  men  of 
Bercy  connected  in  some  way  or  other  with  the 
wine  trade.  It  was  not  long  before  he  returned 
home  drunk  and  worried  his  wife — perhaps  he  was 
over  affectionate — and  one  fine  evening  she  quitted 
the  conjugal  hearth  for  the  first  time,  and  took  refuge 
with  her  parents  at  Montmartre.  They  had  been 


84  PAUL  VERLAINE 

scarcely  six  months  married,  and  the  ink  had  not  yet 
dried  on  the  glowing  sheets  of  La  Bonne  Chanson. 

In  consequence  of  an  attack  of  bronchitis,  stated 
to  have  been  brought  on  by  sentry  duty  on  a  cold 
night — the  which  was  attested  by  the  major  of  the 
battalion  —  Verlaine  was  allowed  to  retire  from 
active  service,  and  invited  to  resume  his  official 
duties,  a  place  having  been  kept  open  for  him 
at  the  H6tel-de-Ville.  So  not  without  a  certain 
feeling  of  relief  he  put  down  the  gun  of  a  national 
defender,  never  to  take  it  up  again. 

Although  favouring  in  principle  the  movement 
of  the  1 8th  of  March,  and  sharing  the  sentiments 
of  the  majority  of  Parisians,  who  dreaded  the 
restoration  of  the  monarchy,  he  took  no  part  in 
the  insurrection.  If  afterwards  he  was  classed 
among  the  Communists,  it  was  only  by  putting  a 
very  broad  interpretation  upon  that  dangerous 
appellation.  He  did  not  go  to  Versailles — that  was 
the  whole  of  his  crime.  Moreover  he  was  not  at  any 
time  the  object  of  a  judicial  ban  for  taking  part  in  the 
Commune.  These  facts  have  often  been  misstated. 

M.  Thiers  quitted  Paris  precipitately  on  the 
1 8th  March  1871  in  a  carriage,  which  to  the 
gallop  of  two  excited  horses  carried  him  far  away 
from  the  tumultuous  city.  The  little  man  left  all  the 
public  services  to  shift  for  themselves.  His  flight 
was  so  prompt  that  he  did  not  even  remember  to 
give  orders  for  the  evacuation  of  the  offices  of  the 
ministry  and  prefecture.  Gradually  the  adminis- 
trative chiefs  departed  in  their  turn  for  Versailles 
quite  spontaneously,  and  of  their  own  free  will.  It 
was  not  until  some  days  after  the  stampede  that 
the  heads  of  departments  went  thither  also  by 


mo 


THE   COMMUNE  85 

special  command,  to  organise  provisional  services. 
No  regular  instructions  were  given  to  the  inferior 
employees  at  the  H6tel-de-Ville ;  no  one  ordered 
them  to  cease  from  their  daily  routine  and  await 
at  home  an  invitation  to  rejoin  their  chiefs  at 
Versailles.  The  Government  of  Versailles  after- 
wards published  in  the  newspapers  it  controlled, 
which  naturally  were  little  read  in  Paris,  a  notice 
recommending  the  Government  employees  to  abstain 
from  all  their  functions,  and  to  await  the  orders  of 
their  official  heads.  Some  obsequious  clerks,  in 
order  to  curry  favour  and  merit,  favourable  notice 
and  advancement,  without  awaiting  the  orders  which 
after  all  were  never  sent,  packed  their  bags  at  the 
end  of  a  fortnight  and  fled  from  rebellious  Paris, 
in  imitation  of  M.  Thiers.  Arriving  at  Versailles 
in  a  state  of  affright,  they  exaggerated  the  cause 
of  their  alarm,  enlarged  upon  the  perils  from  which 
they  had  escaped,  and  put  their  glossy  silk  sleeves 
at  the  entire  disposition  of  the  Government.  M. 
Thiers  would  have  preferred  a  regiment  of  artillery, 
and  little  notice  was  taken  of  these  useless  quill- 
drivers.  Some  wandered  about  Versailles  until 
the  entry  of  the  troops,  but  the  greater  number 
returned  unobtrusively  to  Paris,  and,  benefiting 
by  the  holiday,  awaited  the  course  of  events,  un- 
easy only  as  to  whether  their  arrears  of  salary 
would  be  paid  up.  After  the  downfall  of  the 
Commune  they  all  returned  to  their  desks. 

Verlaine  alone  took  a  different  but  perfectly 
natural  course.  The  distastefulness  of  leaving 
Paris  for  a  place  overrun  with  soldiers  and  officials, 
and  some  friendships  among  the  leaders  of  the 
movement,  notably  Raoul,  Rigault,  Andrieu,  and 


86  PAUL  VERLAINE 

L6o  Meillet,  decided  him  to  remain.  His  wife, 
besides,  did  not  wish  to  leave  her  parents,  and 
he  would  have  been  obliged  to  take  his  mother 
with  him.  The  H6tel-de-Ville  had  not  budged, 
and  he  returned  to  it  with  the  docility  of  custom, 
seated  himself  in  his  usual  chair  in  the  room  to 
which  he  had  been  allotted,  and  went  on  with 
the  regular  routine  as  if  nothing  had  occurred  to 
disturb  it.  He  was  perfectly  logical  in  his  attitude. 
An  employee  ought  to  know  nothing  beyond  the 
seat,  writing  -  desk,  and  register  that  has  been 
assigned  to  him.  He  is  part  of  a  complicated 
machine,  and  as  long  as  it  stands  he  must  perform 
his  functions  regardless  of  political  events.  The 
only  authority  he  has  to  recognise  is  that  of  the 
being  who  sits  in  the  chief's  armchair  and  issues 
orders.  The  Government  had  undoubtedly  changed 
since  the  1 8th  of  March ;  but  was  this  any  reason 
why  the  daily  routine  should  be  disturbed? 

There  were  precedents,  on  the  4th  of  September 
the  Government  had  been  changed  as  completely 
as  on  the  i8th  March.  Not  a  single  employee  of 
the  H6tel-de-Ville,  however,  had  ceased  to  occupy 
his  stool ;  nothing  had  been  altered  except  the 
notepaper  headings  and  stamps  representing  the 
imperial  eagle.  M.  Thiers  had  been  removed 
from  the  head  of  the  state  like  Napoleon  III., 
Charles  X.,  and  Louis  Philippe,  and  he  would  be 
replaced.  It  was  nothing  to  do  with  the  employees, 
and  the  idea  that  any  harm  could  come  to  them 
from  remaining  at  their  posts  would  not  be  expected 
to  enter  any  reasonable  brain. 

The  employee  who  continued  at  his  post,  in 
spite  of  the  political  upheaval,  was  naturally  made 


THE   COMMUNE  87 

much  of  by  the  new  masters  of  the  H6tel-de-Ville. 
It  was  impossible  at  such  a  time  to  regulate  the 
administration  perfectly.  The  more  urgent  matters 
had  to  be  attended  to  first.  There  were  municipal 
functions  which  could  not  be  interrupted,  for  they 
had  to  do  with  the  events  of  every  day — births, 
deaths,  police,  commerce,  customs,  etc.,  etc.  The 
department  to  which  Verlaine  was  attached  was 
not  one  of  these ;  the  salary  sheets  of  ministers 
and  cure's  could  wait,  and  he  was  accordingly  trans- 
ferred to  the  Press  bureau  ;  his  literary  qualifica- 
tions causing  him  to  be  chosen  for  this  employment, 
which  consisted  in  making  cuttings  from  news- 
papers. Verlaine  received  no  promotion  in  this 
department ;  had  he  done  so  he  would  certainly 
have  been  charged  at  a  later  date  with  usurping 
the  position. 

Verlaine  took  no  part  in  the  political  and 
military  affairs  of  the  Commune.  He  made  verses 
to  the  noise  of  the  cannonade  of  the  Point-du-Jour, 
imitating  Goethe,  who,  according  to  The'ophile 
Gautier,  during  the  wars  of  the  empire  at  Weimar, 
shut  himself  up,  and,  deaf  to  the  thunder  of  the 
cannon,  gathered  the  roses  of  Hafiz,  and  composed 
the  Divan  Oriental.  He  had  not  even  the  curiosity 
to  descend  into  the  street  as  a  spectator  during  the 
great  and  terrible  days  when  Paris  was  taken,  in 
order  to  contemplate  the  sublime  horror  of  civil 
war. 

His  wife,  who  had  returned  to  her  husband  on 
the  preceding  22nd  of  May,  hurried  off  to  her 
parents  in  the  Rue  Nicolet,  directly  the  news 
spread  that  the  Versaillais  had  passed  the  Porte 
d'Auteuil,  and  shooting  had  begun  in  the  Champs- 


88  PAUL   VERLAINE 

Elyse'es ;  she  left  her  husband  and  home  to  the 
care  of  a  smart  little  servant  girl,  her  filial  senti- 
ments being  more  developed  than  those  of  wifely 
anxiety  or  even  jealousy. 

Verlaine  has  described  in  his  Confessions  our 
meeting  on  that  fatal  Wednesday,  24th  May  1871  ; 
but  as  some  of  his  facts  are  not  altogether  precise, 
I  will  go  over  it  again,  for  it  is  a  fragment  of 
actual  history. 

I  found  myself  on  that  day  with  my  friend 
Emile  Richard,  afterwards  President  of  the 
Municipal  Council  of  Paris,  and  now  dead,  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  the  blazing  H6tel-de-Ville.  We 
were  almost  shut  in  between  two  fires  ;  the  troops 
from  Versailles  having  gained  the  banks  of  the 
Seine,  and  the  Federates  still  occupying  the 
barricades  in  the  Rue  des  Nonnains  d'Hyeres, 
Rue  Monge,  Boulevard  Saint  -  Germain,  and 
Boulevard  Bourdon.  It  was  as  dangerous  to  go 
back  as  to  go  forward,  and  I  suggested  to  my 
companion  that  we  should  take  refuge  with  Paul 
Verlaine,  as  we  were  near  his  house,  and  I  thought 
it  improbable  that  he  would  be  out. 

I  happened  to  be  right  in  my  supposition  ;  he 
had  passed  the  previous  day  in  a  windowless 
dressing-room  scared  by  the  cannonade,  and  had 
endeavoured  to  persuade  the  little  servant  to  bear 
him  company,  to  reassure  her,  he  said,  and  himself 
also — doubtless  one  feels  braver  with  a  companion. 

We  were  neither  begrimed  with  powder  nor  in 
the  uniform  of  the  National  Guards,  as  Verlaine 
states  in  the  Confessions ;  he  probably  retained  but 
a  hazy  recollection  of  the  facts,  for  the  emotion  under 
which  he  was  labouring  was  strong,  and  our  arrival 


THE   COMMUNE  89 

increased  it.  Emile  Richard  wore  a  k£pi  and 
breeches  with  a  purple  stripe ;  for  he  was  then 
a  medical  student,  and  had  been  on  ambulance 
duty  during  the  war.  We  had  been  in  the  act, 
Richard  and  I,  of  returning  to  the  Rue  d'Aboukir, 
to  make  up  the  last  number  of  our  newspaper 
the  Tribun  du  Peuple.  I  was  dressed  in  the  attire 
I  had  worn  throughout  the  whole  of  the  Commune, 
viz.  :  ordinary  civilian  clothes,  without  badge  or 
scarf,  although  I  was  a  delegate  of  the  Council 
of  State. 

Poor  Paul  was  so  frightened,  that  after  a  repast 
sent  to  the  devil,  omelette,  salad,  and  all,  he  could 
not  be  induced  to  go  out  on  the  balcony  and 
contemplate  the  hideous  magnificence  of  the 
spectacle  which  was  the  veritable  panorama  of  a 
Roman  emperor ! 

He  lodged  on  the  fourth  floor  of  No.  2  Rue 
Cardinal- Lemoine,  and  the  balcony  of  the  apart- 
ment gave  on  the  Quai  de  la  Tournelle,  opposite 
the  Pont  Marie ;  spread  out,  therefore,  before  us 
was  a  vast  space  all  in  a  blaze  of  sun  and  fire. 

Beyond  the  Seine  rose  the  heights  of  Passy, 
Montmartre,  Belleville,  and  where  the  river  dis- 
appeared, Ivry  and  Charenton.  In  the  foreground 
stood  Notre  Dame,  a  huge  bulk  of  unrelieved 
shadow,  with  the  H6tel-de-Ville  on  one  side  a 
glowing,  red-hot  mass,  and  the  Palais  de  Justice 
on  the  other  enshrouded  in  a  thick  pall  of  smoke, 
from  which  darted  at  intervals  enormous  tongues 
of  blue  flame.  There  was  a  roar  as  of  furnaces, 
splitting,  crashing,  rending,  and  the  sky  grew 
overcast  with  the  smoke  on  to  which  were  thrown 
gigantic  crimson  reflections.  Ever  and  again,  like 


90  PAUL  VERLAINE 

a  flight  of  crows  or  bats,  uprose  a  cloud  of  bits 
of  paper,  blackened,  charred,  shrivelled,  which 
soared  aloft,  whirled  around,  and  darting  into  the 
masses  of  smoke  disappeared  from  view.  They 
were  the  remnants  of  the  archives  of  the  Exchequer, 
the  Council  of  State,  and  the  Prefecture  of  Police. 
Although  the  H6tel-de-Ville  waxed  red-hot,  with 
banners  of  flame  floating  from  its  high  roof  like 
the  flags  of  some  festival,  the  edifice  remained 
almost  intact  except  for  its  emptied  windows,  and 
was  reflected  upon  the  surface  of  the  Seine  vibrating 
with  the  thunder  of  continual  explosions. 

On  the  left,  on  the  right,  on  the  south,  and  on 
the  north,  the  colours  of  the  sunset  glowed  at  full 
noon ;  a  study  in  ochre,  bitumen,  and  vermilion. 
Columns  of  vapour  were  continually  uprising  as  far 
as  the  eye  could  reach,  like  screens  between  each 
glowing  brazier.  Clear  and  distinct  alone  rose  up 
the  delicate  point  of  the  gilded  spire  of  Sainte- 
Chapelle,  emerging  as  if  mysteriously  protected 
from  the  falling  roofs  of  the  blazing  prefecture. 
Suddenly,  in  the  east  an  enormous  volume  of  flames 
burst  out :  green,  blue,  purple,  red,  and  yellow,  they 
darted  forth  like  gigantic  sword-blades,  discordantly 
painted  in  barbaric  hues  ;  the  great  granary,  filled 
to  overflowing  against  a  time  of  scarcity,  had  taken 
fire.  I  cried  to  Verlaine  to  come  out,  if  only  for 
an  instant,  on  to  the  balcony,  but  could  not  prevail 
upon  him  to  do  so ;  he  pretended  he  must  remain 
with  the  frightened  Louise  in  the  dark  dressing- 
room. 

From  Pere-la-Chaise  and  the  Buttes-Chaumont 
came  the  muffled  roar  of  cannons,  the  last  volleys 
of  the  conquered,  while  the  fusillade  of  the  con- 


THE   COMMUNE  91 


querors  at  the  Bastille  rent  the  air,  and  added 
to  the  horror  of  the  scene  ;  savage  music  accom- 
panying a  terrible  yet  superb  drama.  The  powder 
magazine  at  the  Luxembourg  blew  up  just  as  we 
were  seating  ourselves  in  the  salle  for  dtjeuner,  and 
the  whole  quarter  trembled,  the  windows  shook,  the 
dishes  rattled.  "  Ah,"  cried  Verlaine,  "  the  Pantheon 
falls  into  my  plate !  "  and  he  took  refuge  anew  in 
the  dressing-room. 

Every  now  and  then  he  plaintively  referred 
to  his  mother,  and  less  frequently  to  his  wife, 
calling  himself  a  wretch  to  be  there  in  safety 
when  he  ought  to  be  out  searching  for  them. 
At  last  they  arrived,  his  mother  coming  in  first 
from  the  Batignolles.  She  must  have  traversed 
the  whole  of  Paris  on  foot,  right  through  the  half- 
destroyed  barricades,  picking  her  way  among  ruins, 
ashes,  and  smoking  fire-brands,  and  the  still  warm 
bodies  of  those  who  had  just  been  shot,  holding  up 
her  skirts  lest  they  should  be  soiled  in  the  pools  of 
blood.  Verlaine's  mother,  an  officer's  widow,  did 
not  approve  of  the  Commune.  She  could  not 
conceal  the  feelings  of  horror  inspired  in  her  by  this 
struggle,  then  only  in  its  initial  stages,  legitimate 
or  at  least  justifiable  and  excusable  though  it  was. 

Mme.  Verlaine's  narration  warned  Emile 
Richard  and  me  that  it  was  time  to  depart,  the 
place  was  not  safe,  Verlaine's  apartment  was  only 
a  temporary  refuge,  no  matter  how  favourable  the 
landlord  and  other  tenants  might  be ;  there  were 
no  signs  that  any  one  intended  to  denounce  the 
two  intruders  as  yet ;  but  this  happy  state  of  affairs 
might  not  continue,  and  when  it  was  apparent  that 
the  Commune  was  definitely  worsted,  our  presence 


92  PAUL  VERLAINE 

might  become  a  danger.  The  most  prudent  course 
was  to  decamp ;  yet  retreat  was  perilous.  The 
infantry  were  winding  their  way  along  the  quay  in 
Indian  file,  close  to  the  houses,  evidently  making 
for  the  Place  du  Trone  (now  the  Place  de  la  Nation), 
where,  as  I  learned  afterwards,  they  were  to  meet 
some  other  regiments  of  the  division  Susbielle. 

If  we  fell  in  with  these  men,  weary,  irritated  as 
they  were,  and  ready  to  shoot  or  run  through  the 
body  any  suspicious  person  who  passed  within 
range  of  their  at  last  victorious  armies,  we  should 
have  short  shrift.  They  would  not  wait  for  any 
explanations,  all  they  would  ask  of  us  was  that  we 
should  allow  ourselves  to  be  pinned  unresistingly 
to  the  wall.  To  remain  at  Verlaine's,  on  the  other 
hand,  was  to  expose  ourselves  to  the  probability 
of  being  arrested  by  the  police  following  behind  the 
soldiers,  besides  compromising  the  excellent  fellow 
who,  after  all,  had  given  us  an  asylum  wherein  to 
rest  and  gain  time,  which  sometimes  means  life. 
The  luck  I  have  encountered  twice  or  thrice,  on 
decisive  occasions,  now  intervened  in  my  favour. 

Leaning  half  over  the  balcony  I  was  anxiously 
watching  the  soldiers  as  they  defiled  past  the 
house,  when  I  suddenly  caught  sight  of  some 
faces  I  knew.  "Richard,"  I  said,  "you  have 
excellent  sight,  can  you  tell  me  the  number  of  this 
regiment?"  "The  noth,"  he  answered  quickly, 
withdrawing  his  head  as  a  shot  whistled  past  his 
ear,  aimed  intentionally  perhaps.  "  Quick,  quick," 
I  cried  joyfully  ;  "let  us  go  down  without  an  instant's 
delay,"  and  dragging  Richard  towards  the  Verlaines 
I  briefly  explained  my  reason  for  insisting  on  an 
immediate  retreat ;  the  i  loth  was  the  regiment  to 


THE   COMMUNE  93 


which  I  had  belonged  when  I  had  served  as  a 
volunteer,  and  the  men  who  were  passing  under 
the  windows  were  my  old  companions-in-arms.  I 
had  left  them  two  months  before  at  the  end  of  the 
war,  and  had  nothing  to  fear  from  them  as  I  was 
neither  a  national  guard  nor  a  combatant,  and 
they  did  not  even  know  that  I  had  performed 
certain  official  functions  under  the  Commune. 
They  would  in  all  probability  help  me  to  pass 
through  the  cordons  of  troops  surrounding  the  little 
island  in  which  we  were  enclosed  ;  in  any  case 
they  would  tell  me  how  to  gain  some  quarter 
already  occupied  and  settled  down.  There  was 
nothing  in  my  civilian  costume  to  arouse  suspicion  ; 
with  a  badge  round  my  arm  I  might  easily  have 
passed  for  an  Ami  de  I'Ordre. 

It  was  quite  otherwise  with  Emile  Richard 
with  his  kdpi  and  purple  -  striped  trousers.  He 
loudly  asserted  that  the  dress  of  a  doctor  would 
pass  him  in  safety  anywhere,  but  I  replied  with 
an  equal  conviction  that  his  kfyi  would  instantly 
proclaim  him  a  Federate ;  and  even  if  he  were 
recognised  as  belonging  to  the  ambulance  corps, 
I  was  sure  that  to  soldiers  exasperated  by  the 
resistance  they  had  encountered  a  Communist 
doctor  would  be  as  fair  a  mark  as  an  ordinary 
Federate.  Giving  in  to  this  reasoning  Richard 
commenced  to  tear  off  his  stripes,  assisted  by  the 
scissors  of  the  little  maid,  while  Verlaine's  wife 
borrowed  from  the  landlord  a  black  felt  hat,  with 
which  my  friend  covered  his  thick  head  of  hair. 
It  was  rather  a  tight  fit,  but  Richard  kept  taking 
it  off  to  wipe  his  heated  brow.  We  now  took  leave 
of  our  hosts,  and  were  soon  in  the  midst  of  the 


94  PAUL  VERLAINE 

column,  the  battalion  coming  to  a  halt  at  that 
moment.  Calling  by  name  the  first  man  I  recog- 
nised I  asked  him  to  direct  me  to  Sergeant- Major 
Broca,  the  chief  of  my  Company.  "  There  he  is, 
quite  close,"  answered  my  one-time  comrade,  add- 
ing:  "You  mean  Lieutenant  Broca.  ..." 

Two  minutes  later  I  was  shaking  the  hand  of 
the  excellent  Broca  (now  a  retired  commandant 
living  at  Ajaccio,  his  native  town),  and  congratulat- 
ing him  upon  his  promotion,  while  all  my  old  friends 
crowded  round  me,  officers,  corporals,  and  privates. 
A  wine  merchant  on  the  quay  had  begun  to  open 
his  shop.  I  offered  refreshments.  "  We  are  for- 
bidden to  accept  drinks  from  the  Parisians,"  said 
Sergeant  Peretti ;  "  but  that  does  not  apply  to  you 
who  belong  to  the  Company."  Another  sergeant, 
Arrio,  who  afterwards  assisted  with  me  at  a  patriotic 
ceremony  at  the  Hague  in  1905,  offered  to  go  in 
search  of  the  liquid. 

We  drank  merrily,  and,  needless  to  say,  to  the 
success  of  the  Versaillaise  troops.  My  comrades, 
tired  and  confused  by  the  recent  fighting,  never 
thought  to  ask  me  what  I  was  doing  among  the 
deserted  barricades  and  troops  on  the  march,  and, 
in  order  to  forestall  any  awkward  questions,  I  told 
them  that  I  had  come  to  enquire  after  some  relations 
in  the  Quarter,  about  whom  I  felt  uneasy,  and  was 
now  desirous  of  regaining  my  home  with  the  friend 
who  accompanied  me,  and  we  were  expected  at 
the  Batignolles.  "You  could  not  get  through  by 
yourselves,"  said  one  of  the  officers,  "  but  I  will 
send  a  man  with  you  to  the  Pont-Neuf,  and  once 
over  the  bridge,  you  will  find  the  roads  open." 

I  gladly  accepted  the  offer,  thanking  him,  but  not 


THE   COMMUNE  95 

too  warmly,  lest  he  should  suspect  the  importance  of 
a  military  escort,  and  off  we  went,  encountering  at 
every  step  greetings  and  exclamations  of  surprise 
and  pleasure  from  others  of  my  old  comrades,  stand- 
ing or  sitting  on  the  edge  of  the  footpath.  We 
were  stopped  at  the  pumps  of  the  fire-brigade  in 
the  Place  Dauphine,  and  had  to  run  the  gauntlet 
of  the  eyes  of  suspicious  police  officers  ;  a  critical 
moment,  for  we  might  be  recognised  and  pointed 
out,  which  meant  instant  death.  The  Pont-Neuf 
crossed,  we  separated,  and  I  went  on  towards  the 
9th  arrondissement  by  way  of  almost  deserted 
streets,  Rues  Sainte-Anne,  Grammont,  Taitbout, 
d'Aumale,  and  La  Rochefoucauld.  I  knocked  at 
the  door  of  Charles  de  Sivry,  Verlaine's  brother- 
in-law,  No.  65  Rue  La  Rochefoucauld,  to  give  him 
news  of  his  sister  and  Paul,  and  at  the  same  time 
to  send  a  message  to  my  mother  that  I  was  safe 
and  well,  as  she  had  heard  nothing  of  me  for  three 
days.  This  is  an  exact  account  of  what  occurred 
at  the  end  of  the  Commune.  It  differs  in  a  few 
details  only  from  Paul's  sympathetic  account  in  the 
Confessions. 

Verlaine  did  not  return  to  his  office  when,  after 
six  days'  fighting  in  the  streets  of  Paris,  the  defeat 
of  the  last  defenders  of  the  Commune,  intrenched 
among  the  tombs  of  Pere-la-Chaise,  was  completed. 
He  could  have  presented  himself  at  the  Luxem- 
bourg, where  the  Government  offices  were  now 
installed,  without  running  any  risk.  In  the  general 
confusion  it  is  probable  that  hardly  any  attention 
would  have  been  paid  to  him,  and  in  any  case, 
a  certificate  from  a  friendly  doctor  would  have 
furnished  him  with  a  reason  for  having  remained 


96  PAUL  VERLAINE 

in  Paris,  and  as  there  would  have  been  only  his 
attendance  at  the  Press  bureau  in  the  H6tel-de- 
Ville  to  reproach  him  with,  he  would  have  come  out 
of  the  affair  with  an  admonition,  or,  at  the  worst,  a 
bad  mark  against  his  name.  But  he  alarmed  himself. 

He  was  of  a  nervous  and  very  impressionable 
temperament,  and  believed  that  to  present  him- 
self before  the  head  of  his  department  would  be 
to  court  disaster  —  Caledonia  at  the  very  least. 
Therefore,  he  resigned,  i.e.,  he  disappeared  from 
the  Government  offices.  At  the  bottom  of  his 
heart,  perhaps,  he  was  not  very  sorry  for  this 
opportunity  to  resume  his  liberty.  He  had  had 
enough  of  office  life,  he  said.  He  made  no  attempt 
to  hide,  which  proves  that  his  political  terrors  were 
exaggerated.  He  and  his  wife  lived  in  the  Rue 
Nicolet  with  her  parents,  and  from  the  date  of  his 
resignation  his  misfortunes  began.  Scenes  at  home 
became  frequent,  for  although  he  had  no  office  to 
which  to  repair,  Verlaine  went  out  as  usual,  and 
his  visits  to  cafes  and  wine  -  shops  increased  in 
number  and  length.  After  a  time  he  left  Paris 
with  his  wife  to  go  north.  There  were  hints  of 
denunciation,  even  arrest,  in  the  air ;  he  grew 
frightened  and  decamped  as  rapidly  as  possible. 

Circumstances  separated  me  from  Verlaine 
during  part  of  that  sad  year  1871.  I  did  not 
know  where  he  was,  and  he  could  not  write  to 
me.  He  spent  the  summer  partly  with  M.  Julien 
Dehee  at  Fampoux,  and  partly  with  M.  Dujardin 
at  Lecluse.  He  wrote  from  thence  to  our  mutual 
friend,  Emile  Blemont,  who  had  recently  married, 
and  gave  him  impressions  of  the  rural  life  in  the 
north  he  loved  so  much,  similar  to  those  already 


DO* 


DOMESTIC  LIFE   IN  THE  RUE  NICOLET     97 

quoted  in  letters  from  the  same  localities.  Among 
other  detailed  and  picturesque  descriptions  he 
dashed  off  the  following  sketch  of  his  cousin's 
sugar  manufactory  : 

"  Our  window  looks  out  upon  a  large  court,  in 
the  centre  of  which  rises  up  a  Vendome  column 
which,  less  pretentious  and  more  useful  than  the 
defunct  (here  we  recognise  the  Parisian  who  had 
lived  for  two  months  in  the  midst  of  the  com- 
munal fever),  is  content  with  the  humble  name  of 
chimney.  Beyond  it  are  brick  roofs,  pierced  with 
a  thousand  pipes,  each  more  bizarre  than  the  other, 
and  then  vats,  more  vats,  and  yet  more  vats ;  and 
if  you  like  treacle,  it  is  everywhere  to  be  found. 

"These  surroundings,  industrial  to  a  degree, 
are  happily  compensated  for  by  the  near  vicinity  of 
a  charming  little  wood  which  abounds  in  straw- 
berries, nuts,  and  views.  Moreover,  my  cousin 
possesses  a  very  comfortable  garden  where  pear- 
trees  standing  erect,  peach-trees  against  the  wall, 
and  vines  over  arches,  make  a  very  impressive 
background  for  magnificent  roses  and  enormous 
lilies.  To  smoke  two  pipes  here  after  dinner  (at 
twelve),  to  have  seven  or  eight  drinks  at  the  inn 
(from  four  till  five),  and  to  see  night  fall  in  the 
woods  while  reading  some  tranquillising  book,  this 
is  my  new  life,  different  indeed  from  that  of  Paris. 
We  intend  to  return  shortly  to  Fampoux." 

These  interesting  letters  to  Emile  Bl&nont 
appeared  in  the  Revue  du  Nord  on  ist  February 
1896. 

Verlaine  paid  these  visits  chiefly  to  get  away 
from  Paris,  still  in  a  state  of  upheaval,  also  for  a 
rest,  to  gaze  upon  the  monotonous  landscapes  of 
the  north,  and  finally  to  introduce  his  young  wife 
to  his  relations  at  Fampoux,  Lecluse,  and  Arleux. 

G 


98  PAUL  VERLAINE 

He  returned  to  Paris  in  September,  a  few  days 
before  me,  and  I  wrote  to  inform  him  of  the  sudden 
death  of  my  mother,  which  took  place  at  Arcueil 
on  the  2Qth  September.  He  did  not  come  to  the 
funeral,  but  sent  a  rather  enigmatical  letter  of 
excuse  instead.  I  greatly  regretted  his  absence. 
On  a  day  of  mourning  such  as  this,  it  is  a  consola- 
tion to  be  surrounded  by  one's  dearest  friends. 
Besides,  I  had  only  returned  the  day  before  from 
an  enforced  stay  at  Versailles,  and  had  not  seen 
Paul  since  our  rapid  adieux  in  the  Rue  du  Cardinal- 
Lemoine  amid  the  roar  of  cannons  and  blazing  fires 
of  Paris.  I  knew  nothing  of  his  domestic  affairs, 
but  suspected  my  friend  was  not  happy,  which  added 
to  my  trouble.  We  should  have  had  many  things 
to  say  to  one  another.  This  is  the  letter  Paul 
wrote  me : 

"  3oth  September  1871. 

"  MY  DEAR  FRIEND, — My  mother  has  told  you, 
has  she  not,  the  reasons  which  prevent  my  being 
present  on  the  sad  occasion  ?  Out  of  your  old 
friendship  you  will  pardon,  I  am  sure,  my  enforced 
absence,  and  understand  how  deeply  I  sympathise 
with  your  great  sorrow. 

"  Please  accept  and  ask  Laura  (my  sister)  to  do 
likewise,  my  sincerest  condolences  on  the  death  of 
your  excellent  mother.  Write  to  me  I  entreat,  to 
let  me  know  either  when  I  may  come  and  see  you, 
or  when  you  will  come  and  see  me.  Looking 
forward  to  meeting  you  soon. — Your  devoted  friend, 

"  PAUL  VERLAINE. 

"14  Rue  Nicolet,  Paris- Montmartre." 

What  was  the  real  reason  of  his  absence  ?  Had 
his  mother  informed  me,  and  was  I  too  greatly 


DO 


DOMESTIC  LIFE   IN  THE  RUE  NICOLET    99 

overwhelmed  by  my  grief  to  take  it  in  ?  I  have 
never  been  able  to  recollect  any  explanation  being 
given,  but  imagine  some  domestic  quarrel  kept 
Verlaine  away.  Later  on  we  will  speak  of  the 
misunderstandings  of  the  young  couple  and  the  un- 
happy epilogue  to  La  Bonne  Chanson  ;  at  present 
we  have  only  to  do  with  Verlaine's  official  career. 
His  resolution  not  to  return  to  the  "  Ville"  was 
a  hasty  one.  He  did  not  consult  his  friends  nor 
make  any  attempt  to  obtain  information  or  an  inter- 
view with  his  chiefs.  He  was  merely  influenced 
by  the  idle  statement  of  outsiders  that  he  would  be 
arrested  if  he  had  the  audacity  to  reappear  at  the 
office.  This  most  unfortunate  determination  of  his 
had  a  decisive  and  disastrous  effect  upon  his  destiny, 
and  with  it  commenced  the  second  stage,  an  un- 
happy and  homeless  one,  of  Verlaine's  career. 
Although  not  yet  the  Bohemian  and  outcast  of 
later  years,  he  was  no  longer  the  man  in  easy 
circumstances  who  could  occupy  himself  with  Art 
and  literature,  and  publish  poems  and  fancies 
while  retaining  a  regular  employment  and  fixed 
salary.  He  had  quitted  the  organised  ranks  of 
Society,  but  not  to  enter  the  independent  company 
of  literary  men,  which  also  has  its  own  methods, 
order,  tasks  to  be  accomplished,  and  discipline  to 
be  maintained.  He  did  not  abandon  his  official 
career,  as  did  many  of  his  friends  for  the  purpose 
of  having  more  time  to  devote  to  literature ;  they 
found  more  independence  doubtless  in  their  new 
sphere,  but  at  the  same  time  harder  work.  They 
endeavoured  to  import  official  regularity  into  the 
free  world  of  literature,  and  to  turn  out  a  certain 
amount  of  copy  in  order  to  make  up  by  their 


100  PAUL  VERLAINE 

literary  earnings  for  the  official  salary  no  longer 
to  be  expected  at  the  end  of  the  month.  Verlaine 
published  nothing  and  produced  little  during  his 
first  months  of  liberty  and  complete  leisure.  La 
Bonne  Chanson  appeared  not  long  after,  but  the 
poems  which  made  up  this  song  of  happiness  so 
long  delayed  as  to  be  the  De  Profundis  of  a 
defunct  domestic  bliss,  were  composed  at  a  much 
earlier  date.  Paul  might  publish  his  lover's  dithy- 
ramb at  this  period,  but  he  would  have  found  it 
difficult  to  revive  the  sentiment  which  had  given 
it  birth  in  the  preceding  year. 

More  than  once  afterwards  during  self-examina- 
tion Verlaine  regretted  that  he  had  not  tried  to 
retain  or  recover  his  position.  His  official  duties 
would  not  have  prevented  him  from  rhyming  and 
publishing  his  rhymes.  Albert  Merat,  Valade,  and 
Armand  Renaud,  all  clerks  at  the  "  Ville,"  Armand 
Silvestre  in  the  Finance  Department,  Coppee  for 
a  long  time  attached  to  the  War  Office,  proved  that 
there  was  no  incompatibility  between  the  service 
of  the  Muses  and  that  of  the  State  or  the  Prefecture. 
In  alluding  to  this  regret  of  Verlaine's  for  employ- 
ment lost,  or  rather  foolishly  abandoned,  I  am 
not  dealing  with  a  mere  supposition,  neither  am  I 
biassed  by  personal  affection,  I  am  merely  stating 
the  subsequent  opinion  of  Verlaine  himself.  Many 
years  after  these  events,  Verlaine  permanently 
settled  in  France,  at  the  end  of  his  resources, 
without  aptitude  for  productive  literary  labours, 
aged,  ill,  or  at  least  with  health  undermined,  evinced 
a  desire  to  recover  the  tranquillity  of  mind,  security 
for  the  future,  and  regular  salary  of  an  official,  and 
he  asked  me  to  endeavour  to  obtain  his  reinstate- 


DOMESTIC  LIFE   IN  THE   RUE  NICOLfiT  101 

ment  in  Government  employ.  He  had  neither  been 
the  object  of  any  judicial  enquiry,  nor  regularly 
and  officially  dismissed ;  he  ought  to  be  considered 
simply  as  having  resigned,  having  been  absent  from 
office  since  May  1871.  His  request  was  therefore 
quite  feasible.  Charles  Floquet,  with  whom  I  had 
most  friendly  relations,  was  then  Prefect  of  the 
Seine,  and  I  addressed  myself  to  him  on  the  subject 
of  the  poet's  reinstatement.  Paul's  application  to 
the  Prefect,  which  I  supported,  was  as  follows  : 

"  To  MONSIEUR  LE  PREFET  DE  LA  SEINE,  PARIS. 

"  Monsieur  Paul  Verlaine  asks  to  be  reinstated  in 
the  Government  employ,  having  fulfilled  the  duties 
of  clerk  for  seven  years.  His  last  position  was  that 
of  assistant  editor.  Dismissed  in  1871  for  having 
remained  under  the  Commune.  All  the  papers  are 
in  the  hands  of  the  staff." 

This  peculiar  circumstance  in  the  haphazard 
existence  of  the  poet,  and  his  desire  to  resume 
his  employment,  are  not  generally  known.  The 
facts  I  state  herein,  with  a  view  to  making  clear 
the  real  character  and  life  of  Verlaine,  have  often 
been  misrepresented  and  misconstrued,  but  they 
are  established  by  numerous  letters.  On  the 
22nd  October  1882,  for  example,  he  wrote  to 
me  : 

"  DEAR  FRIEND, — I  would  ask  you  to  be  so 
kind  as  to  write  on  the  return  of  the  prefect  to 
Paris,  in  accordance  with  your  promise,  with  a  view 
to  my  speedy  reinstatement.  .  .  . — Your  old  friend, 

"  P".  V." 

I  put  the  matter  in  train  at  once.  Verlaine 
was  very  impatient.  He  wrote  to  me  again  on 


102  PAUL  VERLAINE 

7th  January  1883,  probably  in  consequence  of  a 
difficulty  raised  by  the  Board : 

"  My  case  is  as  complete  as  possible.  It  cannot 
be  expected  that  I  should  obtain  certificates  of 
good  conduct  from  a  number  of  inn-keepers  whose 
names  and  addresses  I  will  put  down  in  the  many 
towns  I  have  happened  to  pass  through  in  the  last 
ten  years !  I  have  already  had  enough  trouble  to 
get  a  certificate  from  the  Corporation  at  Arras,  a 
town  where  I  spent  more  than  a  year  chiefly,  it 
is  true,  with  my  mother,  the  mayor  objecting  that 
this  was  not  enough.  You  can  imagine  therefore 
how  the  burgomaster  of  Machin  or  the  Chief  Alder- 
man of  Chose,  where  I  spent  a  month  in  three  or 
four  hotels,  would  answer  me.  Tibi.  P.  V. 

"  P.S. — I  omitted  in  my  note  to  you  regarding 

M.  de  B ,  to  send  you  my  new  address : 

17  Rue  de  la  Roquette." 

This  M.  de  B ,  to  whom  Verlaine  alluded, 

was  the  President  of  the  Municipal  Council  of  Paris 
Jehan  de  Bouteiller,  my  colleague  on  the  Mot 
dOrdre.  Verlaine  wrote  to  me  on  the  same  subject 
in  an  undated  letter  : 

"  MY  DEAR  EDMUND, — As  I  told  you  the  other 
day  all  the  papers  necessary  for  my  application 
are  ready — not  one  is  missing.  Nothing  remains 
therefore  except  to  clinch  the  matter,  but  time 
presses ;  circumstances  may  favour  us  if  we  act 
at  once.  Will  you  therefore  see  if  you  can 
say  a  word  for  me  to  M.  de  Bouteiller  whose 
influence  would  doubtless  be  decisive  if  he  would 
kindly  speak  to  the  head  of  the  staff  and  the 
prefect  in  person.  I  shall  be  exceedingly  grateful 
to  you.  .  .  ." 

Some  days  afterwards  he  added :  "  You  are 
going  to  put  in  a  good  word  for  me  with  M.  de 
Bouteiller  as  soon  as  possible,  are  you  not  ?  " 


DOMESTIC  LIFE   IN  THE  RUE  NICOLET  103 

These  letters  surely  show  how  greatly  he  desired 
to  resume  his  position  under  Government,  to  become 
once  more  a  regular  clerk,  and  thus  escape  the 
unhealthy  influence  of  the  wine-shops  and  saloons 
in  which  he  afterwards,  save  for  his  long  sojourns 
in  hospital,  dragged  out  his  miserable  days.  But 
disease  and  disaster  had  their  claws  in  him.  The 
very  day  on  which  I  was  to  obtain  from  my  friend, 
the  Prefect  of  the  Seine,  the  poet's  reinstatement 
in  office,  Verlaine  wrote  to  me : 

"  An  attack  of  fever,  inflammation  and  coughing 
having  seized  me  and  reduced  me  to  a  mere  wreck, 
I  am  putting  myself  in  the  hands  of  the  medicine 
men  for  eight  or  ten  days  for  a  course  of  prudence, 
fumigation,  pill  -  swallowing,  draught  -  quaffing, 
clysterium  donare,  ensuita  purgare,  etc.  After 
which  seriously  I  hope  to  be  all  right  again." 

But  Verlaine's  hope  was  not  to  be  realised. 
He  renewed  his  application,  but  Floquet  having 
left  the  prefecture,  the  heads  of  the  staff  and 
prefectoral  departments  put  their  veto  upon  it, 
the  ignorant  and  erring  judgment  of  Belgian  justice 
being  as  usual  brought  up  against  him,  together 
with  the  undoubted  fact  of  his  adhesion  to  the 
Commune  and  bohemian  habits. 

Verlaine  therefore  resumed  his  starved  and 
disreputable  existence.  Official  hostility  threw  him 
back,  an  outcast  from  ordinary  society,  into  a  life 
of  misery  and  want.  Yet  he  had  greatly  desired 
to  re-enter  the  plane  of  respectability,  and  had 
every  right  to  do  so.  The  Prefecture  of  the  Seine 
was  in  fault,  and  assumed  a  great  moral  respon- 
sibility in  thus  repulsing  its  former  employee,  who 


104  PAUL  VERLAINE 

had  committed  no  disqualifying  offence.  He  had 
been  condemned,  it  is  true,  but  in  a  foreign  land, 
by  judges  prejudiced  against  a  Frenchman,  and  for 
a  quarrel  prodigiously  exaggerated,  and  punished 
with  excessive  severity.  He  was  guilty  only,  as 
far  as  the  Government  was  concerned,  of  practical 
resignation,  of  an  absence  which  the  exceptional 
circumstances  of  1871  might  have  well  excused. 
Floquet's  successor  should  have  considered  it  as 
an  amnesty.  There  was  yet  time  to  preserve  his 
health,  and  give  a  new  direction  to  his  talent, 
by  securing  to  the  poet  his  daily  bread,  and  re- 
placing him  in  a  sphere  necessitating  sufficient 
regularity  of  habit  and  life  to  prevent  the  degenera- 
tion of  his  poetic  faculty  and  the  consequent  lack 
of  adequate  production  which  resulted  from  the 
refusal  of  his  application. 

Under  the  ancient  monarchy  pensions  from  the 
Exchequer,  or  great  personages,  or  official  sinecures, 
kept  men  of  letters  from  want,  and  enriched  our 
literary  patrimony  with  many  a  precious  treasure. 
It  is  much  to  be  deplored  that  a  great  poet  like 
Paul  Verlaine,  a  Republican  and  patriot  who  had 
even  suffered  for  excess  of  zeal,  should  not  have 
been  allowed  to  re-enter  the  service  of  a  democratic 
Government.  Reinstated  in  his  position  with  its 
attendant  literary  and  social  life,  Paul  would  have 
retained  his  health  and  added  to  his  list  of  works 
masterpieces  as  exquisite  as  Sagesse  or  the  Romances 
sans  Paroles.  He  would  have  written  in  the  tran- 
quillity ensured  in  this  age  of  manufacture  and 
commerce  by  an  official  sinecure,  which  scholars 
and  chroniclers  of  old  found  in  the  cloister. 


CHAPTER  V 

•< 

LITERARY    BEGINNINGS THE  SALON  OF  THE  MARQUISE 

DE     RICARD THE      POEMES     SATURNIENS — THE 

FETES  GALANTES 

(1864-1869) 

IT  no  longer  sufficed  us,  towards  1864,  to  read 
to  each  other  our  ingenuous  poems  in  the  solitude 
of  the  rooms  allotted  to  us  by  our  parents,  apart 
from  all  other  literary  contemporaries.  Our  sphere 
was  too  restricted.  Doubtless  we  found  a  certain 
satisfaction  in  the  exchange  of  projects,  opinions, 
ideas,  paradoxes,  criticisms,  and  fancies  in  our  long 
walks,  interrupted  by  halts  at  various  cafe's,  either 
at  the  corners  of  the  boulevards  or  in  the  Rue  de 
Clichy,  whither  we  went  on  purpose.  Our  favourite 
haunt  was  the  Cafe"  d'Orient,  no  longer  in  existence, 
which  used  to  stand  at  the  top  of  the  street  near 
the  Place  Clichy.  We  began  to  desire  a  larger 
audience,  and  sought  for  one  of  those  circles  of 
which  we  had  learned  from  Balzac  and  Joseph 
Delorme.  We  felt  there  must  be  something  of  the 
kind  still  in  existence  where  we  could  encounter 
other  young  minds,  poetry  -  struck  like  our  own, 
eager  to  discuss  literature  and  the  possibility  of 
opening  up  a  new  path  towards  Art.  What  is  the 
use  of  poetry  if  there  is  no  one  to  hear,  admire, 
and  criticise  it?  Chance  provided  us  with  the 
opportunity  we  sought. 

105 


106  PAUL  VERLAINE 

A  school-fellow,  P.-L.  Miot-Frochot,  an  amiable, 
self-satisfied,  and  not  particularly  gifted  youth,  who 
went  in  for  work  of  an  erudite  character,  mediaeval 
research,  the  romances  of  chivalry,  etc.,  took  us 
to  the  house  of  a  new  writer,  who  was  already 
beginning  to  make  a  mark,  Louis-Xavier  de  Ricard, 
son  of  a  general  of  the  empire,  the  Marquis  de 
Ricard,  formerly  Governor  of  Martinique  and  ex- 
aide-de-camp  to  Prince  Jerome.  Louis-Xavier  de 
Ricard  was  at  this  time  quite  young,  dark,  bearded, 
grave,  and  devoured  by  a  very  fever  of  compila- 
tion, annotation,  criticism,  and  lay  exegesis ;  he 
accumulated  every  kind  of  learning,  his  desire 
embraced  the  whole  cosmos  of  the  intellect  by  turns, 
sometimes  simultaneously  ;  poet,  novelist,  dramatist, 
historian,  philosopher,  critic,  journalist,  popular 
scientist,  and  politician,  he  seemed  destined  for 
an  encyclopaedic  career — as  a  matter  of  fact  it  has 
been  a  chequered  and  unlucky  one. 

After  having  played  a  very  active  part  in  the 
formation  of  the  Fdlibres,  and  organised  Latin  fetes 
at  Montpellier,  where  he  played  Aubanel  in  the  Pain 
du  Ptcht,  in  the  Languedoc  patois  he  became  chief 
editor  of  the  Dtp  fake,  an  important  newspaper  in 
the  south.  His  next  proceeding  was  to  put  himself 
up  as  candidate  for  the  He"rault ;  but  being  beaten 
by  a  minister,  M.  Deves,  and  at  the  same  time 
much  cast  down  by  a  domestic  calamity,  he  left 
the  country.  It  is  known  that  he  founded  an  agri- 
cultural institution  in  Paraguay.  But  further  troubles 
overtook  him,  and  leaving  Asun9ion  he  returned 
to  France,  wearied,  aged,  but  not  beaten.  He 
resumed  his  obscure  and  ill-paid  literary  labours, 
and  at  present  he  is  working  on  various  socialistic 


LITERARY   BEGINNINGS  107 

papers,  besides  occupying  a  position  as  curator  in 
a  new  museum  at  Azay-le-Rideau.  He  was  like 
a  literary  sun  in  the  morning  of  our  youth,  which 
as  it  proceeded  on  its  journey  was  obscured  by 
clouds,  and  reappeared  only  at  intervals. 

In  1863  Louis  -  Xavier  de  Ricard,  whose 
prestige  as  a  writer  of  published  works,  was  great 
in  our  eyes,  but  who,  nevertheless,  possessed  neither 
the  authority  nor  the  desire  to  found  a  new  literary 
group,  employed  a  legacy  left  him  by  an  aunt  to 
start  a  philosophic  and  rather  heavy  review  called 
the  Revue  du  Progres,  which  had  the  honour  of 
being  subjected  to  judicial  enquiry.  The  case  was 
in  connection  with  an  article,  which  nowadays 
would  be  considered  absolutely  innocuous,  on  a 
worthless  book  by  Saturnin  Morin,  signed  "  Miron  " 
and  entitled  UExamen  du  Chris tianisme.  Ricard 
was  defended  by  a  very  energetic  young  barrister 
from  the  south  named  L£on  Gambetta,  whose 
admirable  talents  and  prodigious  good  luck  were 
not  yet  recognised — but  the  result  was  eight  months 
imprisonment,  which  he  spent  at  Sainte-Pelagie ; 
the  manager  of  the  Revue,  Adolphe  Racot,  after- 
wards editor  of  the  Figaro,  having  managed  to 
get  his  sentence  abated. 

Ricard  having  met  in  court,  when  his  case  was 
on,  some  young  men  particularly  interested  in 
politics,  and  no  strangers  to  literature,  invited  them 
to  his  mother's  apartment.  This  was  the  com- 
mencement of  a  literary  and  political  salon  at 
No.  10  Boulevard  des  Batignolles,  and  although  it 
might  be  regarded  almost  as  a  suburban  one,  for 
Batignolles  had  only  recently  become  part  of  Paris, 
and  still  preserved  some  of  its  suburban  features, 


108  PAUL  VERLAINE 

it  exercised  a  decisive  influence  upon  the  movement 
of  ideas,  and  more  especially  the  formation  of  a  new 
school  of  poetry  among  the  literary  youths  of  1866- 
1870.  It  was  here  that  the  Parnassus  had  its  cradle. 

Madame  de  Ricard  was  an  amiable  but  rather 
coquettish  and  flighty  woman,  who  knew  little  of 
literature  and  was  suspicious  of  politics,  but  adored 
her  son,  and  was  delighted  that  he  should  receive 
his  friends,  and  attract  famous  and  interesting 
visitors  to  the  house.  She  liked  to  listen,  without 
joining  in,  to  our  eager  and  sometimes  noisy  dis- 
cussions. She  was  passionately  fond  of  youth,  and 
the  noise  suited  her ;  we  were  all  very  young  and 
tolerably  noisy,  and  were  therefore  welcome.  Her 
husband,  the  old  general,  allowed  his  apartment 
to  be  invaded,  retiring  into  his  own  room  without 
much  fuss.  In  the  daytime  he  wrote  his  indiscreet 
recollections  of  the  great  personages  of  the  imperial 
family  with  whom  he  had  come  into  contact.  In  the 
evenings  he  tried  to  sleep,  but  could  not  close  his 
ears  like  his  eyes,  and  our  near  vicinity  was  far 
from  soothing.  Poor  general,  we  certainly  disturbed 
the  last  nights  of  his  life.  Madame  Ricard,  who 
survived  him  many  years,  died  in  1905  at  the  age 
of  eighty -four. 

This  improvised  salon,  bohemian  in  character, 
especially  in  later  years,  witnessed  the  first  intro- 
duction of  a  rough-headed  poet,  whose  appearance 
had  the  effect  of  a  dawn,  viz.,  the  brilliant  and 
sparkling  Catulle  Mendes  :  refinement  in  ringlets. 
He  was  credited  in  those  days  with  vices  of 
which  he  was  probably  ignorant,  and  the  talent 
of  which  he  already  showed  signs  was  not  properly 
appreciated.  Mendes,  in  his  turn,  introduced  a 


LITERARY  BEGINNINGS  109 

young   man,    pale   and   thin,    with   brilliant,    deep- 
set  eyes  and  inscrutable  expression,  whom  he  pre- 
sented to  us  as  a  clerk  in  the  War  Office,  desirous 
of  reciting   some  verses.     The   newcomer  rapidly 
won  our  admiration  and  friendship.     After  reciting 
some  unpublished  poems  he   announced   the  near 
appearance  of  his  volume  of  verse  Le  Reliquaire ; 
his  name  was  Frangois  Coppee  (familiarly  Francis). 
At  his  side  might  be  seen  a  youth  of  serene 
aspect    and    tranquil     mien,    with    a    small    nose, 
somewhat  sententious   speech,  circumspect   regard, 
and    prudent    handshake,    Anatole     France,    who 
delivered  himself  of  a  sonnet,  which  had  something 
to  do    with    a   turbot,   placed   by  a   decree   of  the 
Senate  before  Caesar  with  sauce  piquante.     Sully- 
Prudhomme,  the  oldest  of  us  all,  grave  and  gentle, 
surrounded  by  the  prestige  of  a  volume  of  verse, 
Stances  et  Poemes,  published  some  months  previously 
by  Achille  Faure,  and  recently  returned  from  Italy, 
also  recited  in  a  slow,  monotonous  sing-song  the 
admirable  philosophical  sonnets  which  later  on  were 
collected  and  published  under  the  title  Les  Epreuves. 
One   by   one   they   leant   against   the   mantelpiece 
to  enunciate  their  verses,  retiring  afterwards  to  a 
corner  in  silence. 

The  strangest  and  most  curious  of  the  guests 
at  Mme.  Ricard's  salon  was  undoubtedly  Auguste 
Villiers  de  I'lsle-Adam.  He  was  gifted  with  a 
genius  that  bordered  on  madness,  trivial  and  sub- 
lime, cynical  and  enthusiastic ;  for  his  daring  flights 
towards  the  infinite  and  the  bizarre  he  mounted 
alternately  Pegasus  and  a  broom  handle.  He  had 
in  him  something  of  the  magician,  something  of 
the  mountebank.  He  seemed  intoxicated  with  air; 


110  PAUL  VERLAINE 

some  said  he  smoked  opium.  We  listened  with 
astonishment,  admiration,  even  fear.  We  almost 
dreaded  when  he  narrated  some  strange  tale, 
emphasised  by  fantastic  gesture,  some  crisis  that 
would  cause  him  to  fall  down  in  a  fit  of  epilepsy 
or  hurl  himself  bodily  upon  his  auditors.  He 
affected  a  strange  pronunciation,  punctuating  his 
phrases,  emphasising  his  verbs,  and  sounding  his 
adjectives,  his  many  and  rounded  periods  ringing 
out  like  a  clarion.  He  borrowed  his  gestures  and 
attitudes  from  Rouviere's  Hamlet,  who,  it  is  well 
known,  was  mistaken  for  an  actual  madman. 

Jos6- Maria  de  Heredia,  sonorous,  exuberant, 
amiable,  well-dressed,  displaying  a  gold  chain  on  his 
evening  waistcoat,  with  his  handsome  brown  beard, 
would  declaim  sounding  verses  and  reproduce  the 
cries  with  which  Artemis  filled  Ortygia  as  she 
chased  the  wild  leopards.  Les  Trophe'es  with  its 
note  of  triumph,  published  twenty-five  years  later, 
dates  from  this  period. 

The  musician,  Emmanuel  Chabrier,  would  place 
himself  at  the  piano  and  drown  with  his  chords  and 
harmonies  the  voices  of  the  poets  as  they  discussed 
questions  of  metre.  He  had  written  original  and 
effective  music  to  Victor  Hugo's  ballad,  Le  Pas 
dArmes,  and  often  sang  it  to  his  own  accompani- 
ment, oblivious  of  our  presence. 

Some  celebrated  men  came  to  this  Batignolles 
salon,  but  not  till  later  when  its  frequenters  had 
conquered  fame  —  Edmond  de  Goncourt  among 
others  ;  he  took  part  in  a  performance  of  the  first 
act  of  Marion  Delorme,  when  Coppe"e  played 
"Didier."  Theodore  de  Banville,  Paul  de  Saint- 
Victor,  Xavier  Aubryet,  each  put  in  an  appearance. 


LITERARY   BEGINNINGS  111 

Verlaine  and  I  specialised  in  charades,  which  we 
improvised  at  the  expense  of  the  personages  and 
doings  of  the  Empire.  My  hairless  face  lent  itself' 
easily  to  an  impersonation  of  Napoleon  I.,  and  by 
adding  moustaches  and  a  small  beard,  made  with 
burnt  cork,  I  presented  a  fairly  good  imitation  of 
Napoleon  III.,  of  whom  every  good  policeman 
seems  the  counterpart.  Verlaine  was  always  a 
revolutionary,  a  conspirator,  who  wanted  to  violate 
the  majesty  of  the  throne,  and  change  the  order  of 
succession,  as  the  attorneys  of  the  Palais  de  Justice 
say.  These  buffooneries,  which,  however,  bore  the 
stamp  of  a  biting  and  satirical  actuality,  were  not 
altogether  free  from  danger.  The  police  who  were 
then  very  much  on  the  alert  might  listen  at  doors  and 
cause  us,  thanks  to  a  devoted  magistracy,  to  reflect 
on  the  perils  of  charades  too  much  up  to  date  on  "  wet 
straw."  These  charades  were  wont  to  terminate  with 
mad  gallops  and  farandoles,  improvised  by  Charles 
de  Sivry,  at  breakneck  speed. 

Our  comrade,  Ernest  Boutier,  knew  a  bookseller 
in  the  Passage  Choiseul,  whose  customers  mostly  pur- 
chased books  of  prayer  and  first  communion,  which 
he  displayed  at  No.  45,  the  corner-shop,  where  the 
passage  opens  out  into  the  Place  Ventadour,  in 
which  the  Italian  theatre  then  stood.  This  book- 
seller was  young,  intelligent,  enterprising,  ambitious, 
and  dreamed  of  something  better  than  being  the 
mere  successor  of  a  certain  Percepied.  He  there- 
fore lent  an  ear  to  the  tentative  suggestions  of 
Ernest  Boutier,  backed  up  by  Verlaine,  Ricard,  and 
myself;  and  finally  consented  to  publish  certain 
volumes  of  poetry,  which  it  was  understood  were 
to  be  printed  at  the  expense  of  the  authors,  and 


112  PAUL  VERLAINE 

to   act   as   agent   for    a    literary  journal   we   were 
contemplating. 

Preceded  by  an  edition  of  del,  Rue  et  Foyer,  by 
L.-X.  de  Ricard,  in  which  the  publisher's  name  only 
appeared  on  the  cover,  two  volumes  of  poetry  were 
issued  on  the  same  day,  viz.,  Le  Reliquaire  by 
Frangois  Coppee,  and  the  Poemes  Saturniens  by 
Paul  Verlaine,  a  triple  commencement,  and  also 
the  first  essay  of  the  excellent  Alphonse  Lemerre, 
who  was  before  long  to  conquer  fame  and  fortune 
by  publishing  poetry,  an  undertaking  at  all  times 
hazardous,  and  in  those  days  regarded  as  absolutely 
mad. 

The  journal,  of  which  Ricard  was  editor-in-chief, 
was  called  L'Art,  and  had  but  a  short  existence. 
It  attracted  most  notice  when  Henriette  Marshal 
was  produced.  Verlaine  was  loudest  among  the  sup- 
porters of  this  piece  of  Edmond  de  Goncourt's,  a 
proof  of  the  eclecticism  of  the  young  Parnassian 
school.  Nothing  could  be  more  remote  from  the 
poetic  spirit  of  the  Parnassians  than  the  modernity, 
brutality,  and  lack  of  artistic  finish  of  the  Goncourts; 
yet  they  one  and  all  echoed  Verlaine's  plaudits,  and 
were  present  at  the  tumultuous  performance  of  the 
play  which,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  was  second-rate,  and 
rather  banal,  and  famous  merely  because  its  career 
was  suddenly  cut  short  by  a  violent  and  unreason- 
able cabal.  Leconte  de  Lisle,  who  was  seated 
behind  me  in  the  orchestra,  said  to  me  in  the  midst 
of  the  uproar :  "I  am  not  very  certain  what  we 
are  doing  here ; "  to  which  I  replied  that  "  Pipe- 
en-bois  (the  originator  of  the  cabal)  knows  no  more 
about  it  than  we  do,  and  we  are  here  to  answer 
him  back." 


LITERARY  BEGINNINGS  113 

The  motive  of  the  squabble  was  always  rather 
obscure,  it  was  probably  more  political  than  literary  ; 
Pipe  -  en  -  bois  and  the  students  reproached  the 
Goncourts  with  the  fact  that  it  was  owing  to  the 
favour  of  the  Princesse  Mathilde  that  their  play  was 
performed  at  the  Theatre- Francois.  Now  we  were 
not  generally  friendly  to  the  princess,  and  would  not 
have  thought  of  backing  up  her  patronage.  As  to 
the  brothers  Goncourt,  they  belonged  to  another 
literary  generation,  and  their  style,  altogether 
opposed  to  romanticism,  harmony,  and  poetry,  was 
not  calculated  to  arouse  us  to  enthusiastic  partisan- 
ship. The  real  truth  was,  we  wanted  an  opportunity 
to  create  a  sensation,  to  make  known  our  existence, 
to  attract  the  public  eye — Henriette  Marshal  was  a 
mere  pretext.  The  papers  were  full  of  the  students 
who  hissed,  and  the  poets  who  applauded.  More- 
over we  saw  that  the  6clat  attending  this  invasion 
of  a  theatre  by  an  uproarious  coterie,  eager  to  prove 
its  existence  by  making  a  noise  like  the  romanticists 
in  the  days  of  Hernani,  would  react  favourably 
on  our  recently  started  journal,  which  so  far  had 
received  scarcely  any  notice,  in  spite  of  the  talent  and 
audacity  of  its  contributors.  Henriette  Marshal  ran 
a  very  short  time,  its  first  performance  only,  like 
that  of  Hernani,  being  noteworthy  from  the  point 
of  view  of  noise  be  it  understood.  Twenty-five 
years  later,  when  it  was  revived,  it  became  clear 
how  little  the  piece  merited  such  violent  attack 
and  ardent  defence. 

Verlaine  had  a  very  real  sympathy  for  the  realist 
school,  remote  as  it  was  from  him.  He  had  no 
contempt  for  the  inaccurate  and  imperfect  works 
of  Champfleury,  and  pointed  out  to  me  as  having 

H 


114  PAUL   VERLAINE 

afforded  him  pleasure  the  adventures  of  Made- 
moiselle Mariette  and  Les  Amoureux  de  Sainte- 
Ptrine.  I  need  hardly  say  that  he  prostrated 
himself  before  the  majestic  genius  of  Balzac.  A 
novel,  now  completely  forgotten,  by  Ch.  Bataille 
and  Ernest  Rasetti,  entitled  Antonie  Que'rard,  was 
singled  out  by  him,  and  not  without  reason,  as  one 
of  the  most  vigorous  productions  of  the  time. 

His  conception  of  poetry,  at  this  period  of  his 
life,  was  descriptive  objectivity,  an  adaptation  of 
the  methods  of  Leconte  de  Lisle,  and  even  more, 
of  Victor  Hugo.  The  Poemes  Saturniens  include  a 
large  number  of  pieces  which  are  purely  descriptive 
and  objective ;  yet  here  and  there  is  perceptible  a 
personal  note,  feeling,  or  sentimental  impression. 

The  Poemes  Saturniens  on  its  appearance  made 
no  impression,  and  was  passed  over  by  the  critics. 
Le  Reliquaire,  published  on  the  same  day,  obtained 
greater  notoriety,  chiefly  owing  to  the  wonderful 
success  of  the  Passant.  The  sensation  made  by 
that  little  poetical  play  was  like  the  sound  of  a 
drum  which  attracts  the  multitude,  and  all  CoppeVs 
friends,  the  young  poets  who  had  already  formed 
themselves  into  a  group,  and  were  beginning  to 
be  talked  about,  benefited.  The  eyes  of  the 
public  were  turned  to  them ;  they  existed.  It  was 
thirty  years  and  more  since  the  public  had  been 
known  to  pay  any  attention  to  versifiers,  or  to  be 
interested  in  a  poetic  revival. 

The  original  edition  of  the  Poemes  Saturniens 
was  a  volume  in-i8  of  163  pages,  with  the  imprint  ; 
Alphonse  Lemerre,  publisher,  Paris,  47  Passage 
Choiseul,  1866,  and  his  trade  mark  (then  without 
the  rising  sun),  a  labourer  digging,  and  the  motto 
Fac  et  Spera. 


LITERARY  BEGINNINGS  115 

Verlaine  received  flattering  eulogies  from  the 
friends  and  famous  poets  to  whom  he  sent  his 
volume.  Leconte  de  Lisle  declared  that  "these 
poems  were  written  by  a  true  poet,  an  artist 
already  very  clever,  who  has  early  acquired  the 
art  of  '  expression.' '  Theodore  de  Banville  rather 
affectedly  asserted  that,  although  literally  a  wreck, 
he  had  read  and  re-read  the  Poemes  Saturniens 
ten  times  consecutively,  so  great  a  hold  had  it 
upon  him  both  as  man  and  artist,  and,  moreover, 
that  Verlaine  was  a  poet  of  true  originality  :  "  We 
are  all  wearied  to  such  an  extent  by  every  kind 
of  jingle  that  we  cannot  be  moved  by  anything 
except  real  poetry/'  The  poet  of  the  Cariatides 
quoted  with  particular  appreciation  three  choice 
pieces  which  were  somewhat  in  his  own  style,  for 
instance  La  Chanson  des  Ingenues,  and  he  ended 
up  with  this  opinion,  which  the  future  has  con- 
firmed and  posterity  ratified :  "  I  am  sure  I  do 
not  deceive  myself  when  I  say  that  among  con- 
temporary poets  you  will  hold  one  of  the  most 
assured  and  prominent  places." 

Of  course  Victor  Hugo  despatched  his  paternal 
blessing  from  Guernsey,  somewhat  after  this  fashion  : 

"  Confrere,  for  you  are  my  confrere,  and  in  con- 
frere there  isfrere  (brother).  My  setting  sun  salutes 
your  dawn.  You  are  beginning  to  climb  the  Gol- 
gotha of  the  Idea,  as  I  descend.  I  watch  your 
ascension  as  I  go  down,  and  smile  upon  it.  Art 
is  infinite,  you  are  a  ray  upon  the  great  unknown. 
I  press  your  poet  hands.  Ex  imo.  V.  H." 

This  is  not  an  exact  reproduction  of  what  the 
great  man  wrote,  but  this  parody,  with  which  we 


116  PAUL  VERLAINE 

have  often  amused  ourselves,  represents  the  manner 
of  compliment  which  the  "  Pere "  from  his  island 
forwarded  to  all  who  sent  him  verses.  It  was 
like  a  benevolent  circular  which  we  each  received 
from  the  master  we  one  and  all  admired,  although 
his  stereotyped  compliments  certainly  afforded  us 
entertainment.  Sometimes  the  eulogistic  auto- 
graphed letter  which  was  generally  written  either 
by  Mme.  Drouet  or  Francois  Victor  Hugo  was 
accompanied  by  a  precious  photograph  like  the 
one  which  occupies  a  place  of  honour  in  my 
study.  The  writing  on  this  was  the  work  of  two 

hands  ;  the  signature  and  dedication  "  To  M " 

were  written  by  Victor  Hugo  himself,  and  the  name 
left  blank  was  filled  in  by  Paul  Meurice  to  whom 
the  exile,  for  safety's  sake,  sent  the  whole  parcel 
of  portraits,  the  author  of  Fanfan-la-Tulipe  duly 
apportioning  them  out.  There  is  no  occasion  for 
excessive  mirth  over  this  method  of  concocting 
felicitations  beforehand,  and  distributing  portraits 
like  prospectuses.  Victor  Hugo  was  simply  over- 
whelmed with  poems,  books,  novels,  magazine 
articles,  political  pamphlets  and  revolutionary 
schemes ;  he  could  not  read  and  reply  to  every 
one.  As  to  the  photographs,  the  inconsiderate 
police  would  doubtless  have  confiscated  them  if 
posted  direct,  and,  under  suspicion  of  disseminating 
republican  propaganda,  these  acts  of  courtesy  on 
the  part  of  the  exile,  might  often  have  drawn  down 
persecution  upon  the  recipients. 

However,  if  Victor  Hugo  did  not  read  the  Poemes 
Saturniens  on  publication,  and  praised  them  merely 
on  trust,  in  accordance  with  his  usual  custom,  it  was 
evident  he  had  become  acquainted  with  them  when 


LITERARY  BEGINNINGS  117 

Verlaine  called  on  him  in  Brussels  at  a  later  date. 
Victor  Hugo  received  the  young  poet  in  the  famous 
lodging  in  the  Place  des  Barricades,  which  was 
afterwards  offered  as  a  shelter  to  the  proscribed 
Communists  —  a  perilous  hospitality  indeed,  for  it 
led  to  a  disgraceful  storming  of  the  great  man's 
windows.  The  Braban9on  populace  were,  at  the 
time,  in  a  fever  of  reaction,  and  furious  against 
every  one  who  had  taken  part  in  the  Parisian 
insurrection,  or  seemed  to  countenance  it.  It  is 
necessary  to  take  into  account  this  treatment  to 
which  Victor  Hugo  was  subjected,  and  his  com- 
pulsory retirement  from  Belgium  on  account  of 
the  Commune,  when  we  attempt  to  appreciate  the 
heavy  sentence  passed  upon  Paul  Verlaine,  a 
reputed  Communist,  by  the  Belgian  magistrates. 

The  great  poet,  forev/arned  of  the  coming  of  the 
author,  was  doubtless  prepared  for  him ;  flatter- 
ingly he  quoted  some  of  his  visitor's  verses.  This 
delicate  personal  tribute  made  Verlaine  very  happy, 
although,  as  a  rule,  he  cared  little  for  compli- 
ments. In  the  course  of  this  visit,  made  in  1868, 
Verlaine  was  presented  to  Madame  Victor  Hugo, 
the  romantic  Muse,  the  immortal  Adele,  who  had 
inspired  not  only  her  husband's  great  passion  of 
which  his  Lettres  a  la  Fiancee,  recently  published, 
bears  ample  testimony,  but  also  the  famous  and 
mysterious  collection  of  burning  verse  entitled,  Le 
Livre  d' Amour,  in  which  Sainte-Beuve  celebrated 
the  most  beautiful  and  desirable  of  his  inconnues. 

Verlaine  went  away  enchanted  with  the  cordial, 
simple,  and  familiar  reception,  almost  excessive  in 
its  warmth,  of  the  great  man.  But  simplicity  is 
sometimes  disconcerting,  and  it  is  possible  there 


118  PAUL  VERLAINE 

may  have  been  some  slight  feeling  of  disillusion- 
ment, consequent  upon  a  too  glorified  expectation 
in  this  first  contact  of  a  young  writer  with  a  master 
in  the  zenith  of  his  glory.  Victor  Hugo's  character- 
istic simplicity  and  admirable  familiarity,  in  strong 
contrast  with  the  majesty  of  his  genius,  did  not 
astonish  Verlaine  alone,  and  it  led  to  a  rather 
amusing  passage  of  arms  between  Francois  Coppe'e 
and  Victor  Noir,  a  young  journalist,  the  future  un- 
fortunate victim  of  Pierre  Bonaparte's  pistol  shot 
in  the  memorable  house  at  Auteuil.  An  article 
in  itself  harmless,  but  interpreted  offensively  by 
Coppe'e,  appeared  in  connection  with  a  visit  similar 
to  that  of  Verlaine,  paid  by  the  author  of  the 
Passant,  to  the  illustrious  outlaw.  "  You  have 
returned  from  Guernsey.  How  did  you  find  Victor 
Hugo?"  Victor  Noir  made  an  interlocutor  say  to 
Coppe'e  in  the  newspaper  Le  Corsaire.  "  Very  well 
indeed,"  Coppee  was  supposed  to  have  replied, 
"  but  his  air  seemed  to  me  rather  provincial." 

This  remark  was  absolutely  denied,  yet  there  was 
truth  in  it,  and  Victor  Hugo  retained  his  provincial 
manner  and  characteristic  good  nature  throughout 
his  productive  and  glorious  old  age.  He  did  not 
try  to  distinguish  himself  in  dress  or  manner,  nor  to 
assume  the  air  of  a  celebrated  man.  He  was  one 
of  those  who  pass  unnoticed  in  a  crowd.  Although 
for  many  years  he  went  twice  a  day  in  an  omnibus 
from  Batignolles  to  the  Jardin-des-Plantes,  none  of 
the  conductors  nor  passengers  on  the  line,  which 
was  frequented  by  artists,  writers,  and  political  men, 
ever  suspected  that  the  old  gentleman  with  a  fine, 
white  beard,  who  sat  unassumingly  in  his  place 
looking  like  a  good,  ordinary  citizen,  was  one  of 


LITERARY   BEGINNINGS  119 

the  greatest  writers  of  the  age.  This  common- 
place air  in  no  way  detracted  from  Victor  Hugo's 
greatness  ;  on  the  contrary,  it  enhanced  it  if  that 
were  possible.  He  was  formal,  perhaps  emphati- 
cally so,  only  on  the  occasions  when  he  took  pen 
in  hand  to  reply  to  some  admirer.  His  speeches, 
political  manifestoes,  proclamations,  and  appeals  to 
the  Ministers  of  State  and  nations,  the  composition 
of  which  is  always  grandiloquent,  gave  an  impres- 
sion of  simplicity.  Pierre  Dupont's  superb  verses 
on  the  fir  trees  might  well  be  applied  to  him. 

Of  the  large  number  of  complimentary  letters, 
some  of  them  mere  courteous  banalities,  but  others 
evidently  sincere,  which  reached  the  young  poet, 
now  become  quietly  famous,  the  fine  letter  of 
Sainte-Beuve,  which  is  included  in  his  Correspon- 
dence, should  have  a  place  apart.  Coming  from 
the  great,  almost  the  only  literary  critic  France 
could  boast  in  the  nineteenth  century,  the  only  one, 
perhaps,  who  will  remain,  whose  documented  mono- 
graphs and  studied  and  condensed  opinions  will  be 
re-read,  combined  with  the  fantastic  yet  ofttimes  true 
pronouncements  of  the  extravagant  and  captivating 
Barbey  d'Aurevilly,  such  homage  ought  to  count. 
The  spontaneous  appreciation  of  Sainte-Beuve  for 
a  beginner,  an  unknown,  proves  that  we  were  not 
deceived,  nor  under  an  illusion  concerning  one  of 
our  own  set,  when  we  declared  after  a  first  rapid 
hearing  that  the  majority  of  the  poems  were  fine, 
and  Paul  Verlaine  was  at  twenty  a  true  poet  who 
would  develop  into  a  great  poet. 

This  is  the  letter  Sainte  -  Beuve  wrote  to 
Verlaine  in  December  1866,  i.e.,  when  the  volume 
appeared  : 


120  PAUL  VERLAINE 

"SiR  AND  DEAR  POET, — I  wished  to  read  the 
Poemes  Saturniens  before  thanking  you  for  the 
volume.  The  critic  and  poet  in  me  are  at  war 
in  regard  to  it.  Talent  there  is,  and  to  it  first 
of  all  I  render  my  homage.  Your  aspiration  is 
elevated,  and  as  you  say  in  your  epilogue,  in 
words  that  may  not  be  forgotten,  you  are  not 
contented  with  that  fugitive  thing,  inspiration.  In 
your  descriptions  of  scenes  you  have  produced 
some  altogether  brilliant  sketches  and  night  effects  ; 
and,  like  all  who  are  worthy  of  the  laurel,  you 
strive  after  that  which  is  fresh  and  untouched. 
All  this  is  good.  .  .  ." 

After  some  remarks  anent  metre  and  certain 
caesuras  he  considered  irregular  or  too  far-fetched, 
which  he  quoted,  giving  page  and  line,  Sainte- 
Beuve  added,  particularising  the  objects  of  his 
praise : 

"  I  rather  like  Dahlia,  and  am  especially  pleased 
when  you  apply  your  serious  manner  to  subjects 
which  demand  grave  treatment — Cdsar  Borgia  and 
Philippe  II.  You  need  not  shrink  from  being  at 
times  more  harmonious,  more  suave,  and  rather 
less  gloomy  and  hard  in  the  matter  of  emotion. 
We  should  not  take  poor,  good  Baudelaire  as  our 
starting-point,  and  endeavour  to  outdo  him." 

This  fine  letter  of  criticism,  which  shows  a 
perfect  appreciation  of  Verlaine's  talent  and  style  at 
that  time:  "You  need  not  shrink  from  being  .  .  . 
less  hard  in  the  matter  of  emotions,"  ends  up  with 
encouragement.  Sainte-Beuve  advises  the  young 
poet  to  continue  unflinchingly  in  his  present  manner, 
endeavouring  to  render  it  more  facile,  but  not  less 
strong,  and  to  extend  and  adapt  it  to  worthy 


THE  POEMES  SATURNIENS  121 

subjects.  Verlaine,  however,  Jater  on,  driven  by 
circumstances,  ceased  to  follow  his  counsel,  and 
definitely  determined  to  abandon  the  objective  and 
descriptive  method  employed  in  Cdsar  Borgia  and 
Philippe  //.,  which  the  eminent  critic  had  urged 
him  to  continue.  The  letter  confers:  true  brevet 
rank  upon  the  poet  and  artist,  discovered  by  a 
competent  critic  and  recognised  master.  Verlaine 
was  justly  flattered  by  it,  and  we,  his  friends, 
delighted. 

The  Poemes  Saturniens  have  a  twofold  inspira- 
tion, and  are  of  a  composite  character  :  two  or  three 
of  the  pieces,  and  those  not  the  least  beautiful, 
among  them  the  poems  specially  quoted  and  praised 
by  Sainte-Beuve,  Cdsar  Borgia  and  La  Mort  de 
Philippe  II.,  are  entirely  in  the  descriptive  and 
pompous  manner  of  La  Ldgende  des  Siecles  and 
the  Poemes  Barbares.  Others  show  signs  of  the 
influence  of  Baudelaire,  Mon  Reve  familier,  e.g., 
evokes  a  recollection  of  some  piece  out  of  Les 
Fleurs  du  Mai,  in  spite  of  the  lucidity  and  precision 
which  Verlaine  introduced  into  the  expression, 
however  studied  and  subtle,  of  exquisite  sensations, 
mysterious  correspondences,  and  mental  affinities. 
The  lines,  charged  with  ideas  and  suggestions, 
with  which  the  poem  ends,  are  of  a  consistent  and 
original  beauty  very  characteristic  of  the  author, 
and  have  no  trace  of  the  influence  of  Baudelaire. 
There  was,  moreover,  in  the  Poemes  Saturniens — 
I  was  at  hand  when  most  of  the  poems  which 
make  up  the  volume  were  conceived — an  intent 
to  dogmatise  and  create  a  poetic  creed.  Verlaine 
was  in  fact  the  first  to  formulate  the  theory  of 
the  Impassibles  (the  immovable  ones),  as  the  poets 


PAUL   VERLAINE 

of  the  new  school  were  called  to  begin  with ; 
afterwards  the  term  "  Parnassiens"  carried  the  day, 
although  less  appropriate  and  more  pedantic. 

In  the  introductory  poem,  as  in  that  which 
forms  the  epilogue,  he  rebels  against  the  school 
of  Lamartine  (and  delights  in  Madame  Desbordes- 
Valmore),  the  unlyrical  brilliance  of  Alfred  de 
Musset  ("  Allons  /  dieu  mort  descends  de  ton  ante  I 
dargile  !  "  he  cries  furiously  to  the  shade  of  Rolla), 
and  the  political  satire  of  Auguste  Barbier, 
Barth^lemy,  Hegesippe  Moreau,  and  even  Victor 
Hugo.  He  proclaims  the  abstention  of  the  poet, 
in  the  midst  of  struggles  for  public  office,  his 
indifference  to  the  quarrels  which  agitate  states- 
men and  citizens.  He  preaches  isolation,  and 
admires  the  ivory  tower.  The  world,  troubled  by 
the  fervid  language  of  the  poets,  has  exiled  them, 
and  in  their  turn  they  shut  out  the  world.  The 
artist  must  not  mingle  his  song  with  the  clamours 
of  the  crowd,  which  he  qualifies,  regardless  of 
universal  suffrage,  as  obscene  and  violent.  The 
eye  of  the  poet  must  not  look  down  upon  vulgar 
things.  The  priest  of  the  beautiful  has  the  blue 
sky  for  altar  and  infinity  for  temple.  He  must 
participate  in  no  earthly  passion,  nor  mingle  in 
the  commonplace  doings  of  other  men.  He  does 
not  share  their  griefs,  and  should  abstain  from 
their  joys.  Their  quarrels,  their  wars,  the  pride 
of  republics,  the  arrogance  of  monarchies,  military 
glory,  industrial  power,  the  prodigious  extension 
of  science,  commercial  expansion,  the  common 
weal,  instruction  within  reach  of  all  thirst  for 
knowledge,  the  amelioration  of  labour,  the  diminish- 
ment  of  social  wretchedness,  and  individual  suffer^ 


v 


THE   POEMES  SATURNIENS  123 

ing — all  these  things,  which  go  to  make  up  the 
democratic  and  civilising  work  of  modern  society — 
should  leave  him  unmoved.  Dream  must  not  take 
part  in  action. 

This  theory,  then  new  and  even  daring,  since 
it  contradicted  public  opinion,  and  clashed  with 
legitimate  admiration  for  Victor  Hugo,  the  educator, 
philanthropist,  humanitarian,  socialist,  and  theo- 
retical demagogue,  was  soon  taken  up,  developed, 
remarked  upon,  and  vulgarised.  The  press  had  a 
good  deal  to  say  about  it,  laughed  and  approved, 
attributing  the  originality  of  the  doctrine  and  the 
initiative  of  its  formula  to  various  contemporary 
personages,  Leconte  de  Lisle,  Alfred  de  Vigny, 
and  Victor  de  Laprade.  But  it  was  Verlaine  who 
first  presented,  in  the  strong,  lucid  verse  of  the 
prologue  to  the  Poemes  Saturniens  the  theory  of 
poetical  abstraction,  the  isolation  of  the  poet  in 
modern  society,  making  the  writer  —  the  apostle 
extolled  by  Victor  Hugo  —  a  fanatical  egoist,  a 
sort  of  bonze  of  art,  shutting  himself  up  in  a 
temple  into  which  penetrates  only  a  softened  and 
poetised  rumour  of  the  doings,  cries,  complaints, 
and  acclamations  of  the  multitude.  i/ 

In  the  epilogue  to  the  poems  he  completes  * 
his  idea.  Not  only  must  the  poet  live,  think,  and 
feel  apart  from  his  contemporaries,  but  he  must 
keep  his  conscience  and  his  thoughts  from  certain 
promiscuities.  He  must  in  the  beginning  distrust 
his  inspiration.  Wise  and  proved  advice.  Good 
poets  thoroughly  instructed  in  their  art  reach  a 
point  at  which  they  can  with  difficulty  write  fluent 
verse.  Boileau,  that  excellent  authority,  counselled 
that  a  poem  be  returned  a  hundred  times  to  the 


124  PAUL   VERLAINE 

loom,  comparing  it  doubtless  to  a  piece  of  silk 
woven  by  a  laborious  and  patient  worker.  Verlaine 
bids  the  poet  beware  of  facility  ;  warns  him  against 
the  dangers  of  the  commonplace,  not  in  his  subject, 
for  beautiful,  great,  immortal  subjects  are  common- 
place, but  in  its  expression  ;  and  against  that  terrible 
invader  the  stereotyped,  the  dog-grass  of  the  literary 
field  which  it  is  so  difficult  to  eradicate,  springing 
up  again  and  again  as  it  does  with  a  deplorable 
fertility.  He  recommends  knowledge  achieved  by 
lamplight,  and  vaunts  those  two  principal  virtues 
of  an  artist — perseverance  and  determination. 

These  precepts,  although  set  forth  vehemently, 
are  at  bottom  a  mere  reproduction  of  the  counsels 
of  the  learned  Boileau,  who  recommended  the  young 
poets  of  his  day  to  work  at  leisure,  ignoring  the 
urgency  of  prince  or  publisher,  and  not  to  be 
incited  to  a  foolish  rapidity.  At  the  same  time 
Verlaine  anathematised  in  the  name  of  the  young 
school  later  to  be  known  as  the  "  Parnassienne," 
the  Lakists,  not  only  the  English,  such  as  Words- 
worth, Coleridge,  or  Collins,  but  the  vapid  imitators 
of  Lamartine,  who  expressed  themselves  in  ecstatic 
elegies,  or  foolishly  sighed  out  drivelling,  low,  and 
puerile  romances. 

The  Poemes  Saturniens  had  no  success  with  the 
public.  The  press  was  silent,  with  the  exception 
of  the  Nain  Jaune,  in  which  Barbey  d'Aurevilly, 
who  talked  largely  about  the  young  school,  and 
yet  mingled  contempt  and  mockery  with  his 
admiration,  wrote : 

"  A  Puritan  Baudelaire,  an  unfortunate  and 
droll  combination,  without  the  brilliant  talent  of 
M.  Baudelaire,  and  with  reflections  here  and 


THE   POEMES  SATURNIENS  125 


there  of  M.  Hugo  and  Alfred  de  Musset,  such  is 
M.   Paul  Verlaine." 

There  is  little  truth  in  this  criticism,  but  Barbey 
was  solely  desirous  of  appearing  vehement  and 
picturesque.  Verlaine's  principal  quality  in  the 
Poemes  Saturniens  was  that  of  lucidity.  He  ex- 
pressed abstract  ideas  clearly,  and  subtle  sensations 
logically,  no  mean  merit.  Afterwards  he  adopted 
an  absolutely  reverse  method,  and  sought  for 
imperceptible  shades  and  blurred  contours.  Later 
on  he  formulated  his  new  views  in  regard  to  poetry 
in  the  verses  setting  forth  simultaneously  rule  and 
example  after  the  manner  of  classical  treatises  on 
metre  and  prosody  which  begin  : 

"  De  la  musique  avant  toute  chose,  ..." 

His  poetic  method  in  the  Fetes  galantes  was 
different  from  that  of  the  Poemes  Saturniens.  Far 
from  "dire  les  torts  de  la  rime"  the  poet  declared 
that  he  hated  "  la  rime  assonante"  like  the  pretty 
wife  and  the  prudent  friend.  The  wife  and  the 
friend  were  only  introduced  by  way  of  a  joke,  but 
the  rhyme  itself  was  a  serious  matter ;  its  richness 
was  not  to  be  trifled  with.  Verlaine  poured  con- 
tempt upon  feeble  rhymes ;  he  adhered  to  the 
strict  rules  laid  down  by  Theodore  de  Banville 
in  his  treatise  on  versification.  The  words  elevated 
to  the  dignity  of  rhymes  were  weighed  letter  by 
letter,  the  supporting  consonant  being  absolutely 
essential  for  right  of  admission  to  the  place  of 
honour  in  the  verse.  One  of  Verlaine's  grievances 
against  Alfred  de  Musset  was  that  he  did  not 
rhyme  well ;  he  even  quoted  lines  by  the  poet  of 
the  Nuits  which  did  not  rhyme  at  all. 


126  PAUL  VERLAINE 

The  saturnine  poet  classed  among  the  Par- 
nassians, known  as  the  "  impassible  ones "  before 
the  Parnassus  was  invented,  affected  the  utmost 
personal  insensibility.  "  Nature,  nothing  in  thee 
can  touch  me,"  he  said  superbly  with  Goethe.  This 
was  pure  affectation  and  simple  "literature,"  for  he 
was  greatly  impressed  by  the  monotonous  grandeur 
of  northern  scenery,  and  the  sad  severity  of  the 
surroundings  of  Bouillon  charmed  him.  He  was 
a  devoted  friend,  adored  his  mother,  and  was  never 
known  to  blush  at  the  vulgarity  of  sentiments  wholly 
in  accordance  with  Nature.  He  never  sought  to 
dissimulate  emotion  save  when  he  rhymed,  and 
then  was  not  infrequently  unsuccessful. 

In  this  youthful  collection,  the  Poemes  Saturniens, 
there  is  no  hint  of  personal  feeling,  no  self-revela- 
tion, no  word  of  confession  on  the  part  of  the 
man  who  was  afterwards  to  use,  even  to  abuse,  the 
autobiographical  method  to  describe  himself  to  the 
public  in  prose,  verse,  speech,  and  even  in  draw- 
ings. A  young  poet  exhibiting  himself  thus  as 
an  impersonal  being  is  a  very  rare  phenomenon. 
Baudelaire  in  his  Benediction,  and  some  other  poems 
in  Les  Fleurs  du  Mai,  alludes  to  his  mother,  his 
mistresses,  his  travels,  and  his  tastes.  Verlaine 
did  not  follow  the  master  in  these  poems  of  his 
which  were  more  directly  the  result  of  admiration 
for  La  Ldgende  des  Siecles,  and  surprise  at  the 
Poemes  Barbares.  There  is  not  a  single  piece 
•"/-  in  the  whole  volume  which  has  any  relation  to  a 
definite  event  in  the  life  of  the  poet,  a  sensation 
experienced,  a  joy  or  sorrow  felt ;  like  Goethe  in 
his  Divan  (he  read  the  great  German  a  great  deal 
at  this  period  in  Jaques  Porchat's  translation)  he 


THE  POEMES  SATURNIENS  127 

only  dealt  with  abstract,  objective,  and  compound 
emotions.  The  poems  to  women  were  addressed 
to  no  real  living  creature  whom  he  knew.  The 
griefs  of  which  he  speaks  and  sings  are  merely 
suppositions.  Doubtless  he  had  forewarnings  of 
the  future,  but  when  in  1865  he  wrote  :  "  Happiness 
has  walked  side  by  side  with  me,"  the  lines  charged 
with  despair  applied  to  no  actual  fact  in  his  life  ; 
as  yet  he  had  experienced  no  real  troubles.  He 
was  young,  in  good  health,  not  in  love,  content 
with  the  pleasures  within  his  reach,  possessing 
sufficient  money  to  give  him  a  sense  of  satisfaction, 
drinking  when  he  left  the  leisured  precincts  of  his 
office  one  glass  or  another  of  joy-inspiring  liquid ; 
in  fact  he  was  living  without  thought  of  the  future 
peacefully  and  regularly  under  his  mother's  roof. 
His  melancholy  plaint  was  quite  fanciful  and 
abstract,  and  at  the  same  time  he  was  busy  writing 
a  burlesque,  destined  for  the  lively  and  far  from 
saturnine  stage  of  the  Gaite"-Rochechouart.  He 
was  so  possessed  by  the  idea  of  entirely  disregard- 
ing himself  in  his  verse,  rhyming  only  on  subjects 
which  had  no  connection  with  anything  that  was 
his,  that  when  his  father  died  (the  publication  of 
the  Poemes  Saturniens  was  a  year  after  this  event) 
he  consulted  me  on  the  advisibility  of  allowing  the 
the  poem  entitled  Sub  Urbe  to  appear  in  the  volume. 
It  begins : 


"  Les  petits  ifs  du  cimetiere 
Fremissent  au  vent  hivernal.' 


This  melancholy  description  of  an  imaginary 
cemetery,  which  bore  no  resemblance  whatever  to 
his  family  burial-place,  ended  up  with  an  appeal 


128  PAUL   VERLAINE 

to  life,  to  the  sun  at  springtime,  and  to  the  song  of 
birds  soothing  the  quiet  slumbers  of  the  beloved 
dead.  He  feared  lest  it  might  be  construed  as 
an  allusion  to  his  own  grief,  a  lamentation,  a  kind 
of  personal  elegy.  I  advised  him  to  let  the  piece 
stand  just  as  it  was  written  two  years  before  the 
sad  event.  The  public  would  certainly  only  see  in 
the  poem  what  the  poet  had  intended  to  convey — 
a  general  impression  received  in  a  cemetery  in 
winter.  With  regard  to  that  other  poem  "Je  ne  sais 
rien  de  gai  comme  un  enterrement,"  I  certainly 
sympathised  with  the  feeling  of  decorum  which 
made  him  omit  it.  I  preserved  it,  however,  in  its 
original  form,  and  have  already  narrated  how  it 
came  to  be  published  twenty-three  years  later. 

This  first  volume  begun  on  the  benches  at 
school,  continued  during  an  idly  followed  course 
of  law,  and  completed  in  the  first  tranquil  months 
of  life  in  a  Government  office ;  thus  covering  the 
happiest,  most  peaceful,  and  untroubled  period  of 
his  existence,  is  charged  with  a  pessimism,  base- 
less, imaginary,  wholly  fictitious.  He  was  the  most 
lighted-hearted  youth,  untouched  by  the  ordinary 
troubles  and  mortifications  of  middle-class  life,  when 
he  wrote  the  little  poem  entitled  Chanson  dAutomne. 
At  that  time  (1864-1865)  he  had  experienced  none 
of  the  icy  blasts  of  adversity,  and  the  sorrows  he 
claimed  to  feel  were  merely  artistic  conceptions, 
figments  of  the  imagination.  I  will  conclude  these 
comments  on  the  impersonal  nature  of  Verlaine's 
poetry,  and  the  objectivity  which  characterised  his 
poetic  method  at  this  period  by  referring  to  a 
poem  at  first  entitled  Frontispice,  which  under  the 
title  of  Vers  Dorts  I  quoted  in  the  Echo  de  Parts, 


THE  FETES  GALANTES 

1 6th  May  1889;  and  which  sets  forth  in  definite 
and  abbreviated  form  the  theories  of  impassibility 
already  formulated  in  the  famous  verses  of  the 
Poemes  Saturniens,  commencing : 

"Est  elle  en  marbre  on  non,  la  Ve*nus  de  Milo?" 

Such  was  the  poetic  method  which  character- 
ised the  Verlaine  of  the  Poemes  Saturniens,  deaf 


to  all  the  calls,  complaints,  and  exaltations  of  the 
world  within  him,  projecting  his  sensations  out- 
side, materialising  his  dreams,  exteriorising  his 
impressions  and  treating  poetry  as  plastic  material. 
He  was  to  change  in  its  entirety  this  manner  of 
seeing,  feeling,  and  expressing  his  ideas,  sensations, 
reveries,  and  visions. 

The  same  impersonality,  and  an  even  more  /* 
refined  and  artistic  objectivity,  dominates  that 
precious  and  surprising  volume  the  F&tes  galantes. 
No  borrowed  inspiration  is  to  be  found  here;  it  is 
a  synthesis  of  the  Art  of  the  eighteenth  century, 
a  presentment  of  the  manners,  conversations,  and 
diversions  of  that  dainty  and  superficial  period. 

What  sentiment  or  idea  inspired  Verlaine  to 
write  this  series  of  poems,  perfect  in  their  unity, 
the  composition  and  arrangement  of  which  clearly 
indicates  a  work  of  art,  conceived,  taken  in  hand 
and  completed  in  accordance  with  a  definite  scheme 
quite  apart  from  any  personal  impression  ?  I  should 
find  it  difficult  to  give  an  exact  idea  of  the  genesis 
of  the  F£tes  galantes.  Verlaine  undoubtedly  showed 
me,  as  he  wrote  them,  the  various  poems  which  make 
up  the  collection,  but  he  composed  at  the  same  time 
some  pieces  of  verse  of  a  very  different  character : 
Le  Grognard,  which  was  dedicated  to  me  and  after- 

i 


130  PAUL  VERLAINE 

wards  published  under  the  title  Un  Soldat  Laboureur 
(in  Jadis  et  Naguere],  Les  Vaincus,  etc.  In  my 
opinion,  these  exquisite  Watteau  poems  were  in- 
tended to  be  collected  together,  perhaps  to  make 
up  a  set,  but  were  composed  without  any  idea  of 
a  complete  conception. 

I  suppose  two  contemporary  events  directed  the 
poet's  mind  towards  the  marquis  and  marquises,  the 
little  black  boys,  the  pierrots  and  the  columbines, 
and  all  the  gay  throng  in  the  sylvan  glades  of 
Lancret  and  Fragonard  ;  where  the  sound  of  the 
fountains  is  heard  in  the  moonlight  among  the 
marble  statues.  For  one  thing  Edmond  and  Jules 
de  Goncourt  had  just  published  several  very 
beautiful  studies  of  the  eighteenth  century  and  the 
charming  artists  of  this  fascinating  period,  the 
Saint- Aubins  and  Moreaus  ;  and  they  had  narrated 
the  life  and  adventures  of  the  great  actresses,  the 
Guimard,  and  the  Saint- Hubert!,  and  written  the 
only  true  and  not  defamatory  history  of  the  Dubarry 
queen  of  Fdtes  galantes,  whose  end  was  so  tragic 
and  disproportionate.  It  is  possible  that  from 
these  works  Verlaine  acquired  a  taste  for  poetical 
dalliance  in  the  world  evoked  by  the  Goncourts. 
Then  again,  the  Galerie  Lacaze  in  the  Louvre  had 
just  been  opened  to  the  public,  and  we  never 
wearied  of  going  to  admire  the  Gilles,  the  embarka- 
tion for  Cythera,  Fragonard's  swings,  Nattier's 
interiors,  the  Lancrets,  and  the  Chardins  ;  all  the 
art  at  once  intimate  and  idyllic,  realistic  and  poetical 
in  which  Greuze,  Watteau,  and  Boucher  are  past 
masters.  Perhaps,  too,  we  owe  the  F&tes  galantes 
to  the  very  strong  impression  produced  by  La  F£te 
chez  The'rese  in  the  Contemplations,  a  poem  for 


THE  FETES  GALANTES  181 

which  Verlaine  felt  an  admiration  so  great  that  it 
is  the  only  one  by  a  well-known  author  which  I 
ever  heard  him  repeat  by  heart.  He  had  not  a 
good  memory,  and  very  few  quotations  are  to  be 
found  in  his  prose  works. 

The  volume  was  not  very  successful ;  the  press 
hardly  spoke  of  it.  The  first  edition,  which  is  very 
attractive  and  much  prized  by  bibliophiles,  was 
in- 1 8,  on  Japan  paper,  with  fifty-four  pages.  The 
title-page  runs  :  "  Paul  Verlaine — Fetes  galantes" 
The  publisher's  trade  mark,  and  at  the  foot :  "  Paris, 
Alphonse  Lemerre,  £diteur.  Passage  Choiseul  47. 
1869."  On  the  back  of  the  half  title  :  "  Du  meme 
auteur  :  Poemes  Saturniens."  In  preparation  :  Les 
Vaincus.  On  the  last  page:  "  Acheve'  d'imprimer 
le  vingt  fevrier  mil  huit  cent  soixaute-neuf,  par 
L.  Toinon  et  Cie,  a  Saint-Germain,  from  Alphonse 
Lemerre,  libraire  a  Paris.'1 

I  was  away  from  Verlaine  when  the  volume 
appeared,  probably  early  in  March  1869 :  I  had 
just  been  sentenced  to  a  month's  imprisonment  at 
Sainte-Pe'lagie  for  an  offence  in  connection  with 
the  press.  My  incarceration  had  been  hurried  on. 
The  cells  at  Sainte-Pe'lagie  were  never  left  vacant, 
one  occupant  immediately  succeeding  another,  and 
the  departure  of  Edouard  Lockroy  to  a  hospital 
for  the  completion  of  his  term  left  free  for  me  the 
cell  known  as  "  Petite  Siberie."  I  had  only  time 
to  scribble  a  few  rapid  words  to  my  friend  on  a 
card,  to  be  left  with  his  mother,  who  was  then  living 
at  26  Rue  Lecluse,  in  the  Batignolles. 

Verlaine,  to  whose  readiness  to  take  offence 
I  have  several  times  alluded,  was  hurt  by  my 
unavoidably  hasty  warning,  as  the  following  letter 
shows : 


132  PAUL  VERLAINE 

"  nth  March  1869. 

"My  DEAR  FRIEND, — From  the  comprehensive 
card  you  were  so  good  as  to  send  informing  me 
of  your  imprisonment,  but  without  expressing  the 
faintest  desire  to  receive  a  visit  from  me,  or  giving 
any  suggestions  as  to  how  one  could  be  made,  you 
will  doubtless  be  no  more  astonished  at  than  you  have 
been  preoccupied  with  the  matter  of  my  absence  ; 
it  will  be  religiously  continued  until  the  receipt  of 
a  letter  (which  might  have  been  less  delayed) — 
Sainte-Pdagie  being  far,  and  my  time  taken  up. 

"  P.  VERLAINE. 
"RUE  LECLUSE  26,  BATIGNOLLES." 

His  annoyance  was  not  lasting.  I  hastened  to 
send  a  friendly  letter,  dated  from  the  gaol,  inviting 
him  to  come  on  the  following  Sunday  and  share 
the  prison  fare,  which  was  backed  up  by  abundance 
of  victuals  from  the  outside  world,  and  washed 
down  by  no  ill  liquid.  I  explained  that  I  had  been 
obliged,  before  asking  him  to  visit  me,  to  ascertain 
the  necessary  formalities,  and  apparently  visitors 
might  be  received  at  any  time,  after  their  names 
had  been  put  down  on  a  list  which  was  submitted 
to  the  authorities  and  signed  by  the  chief  of  the 
police.  This  formality  required  two  or  three  days. 

He  did  not  come  on  the  Sunday,  excusing 
himself  in  the  following  letter,  which  is  very 
different  in  tone  from  the  angry  effusion  quoted 
above : 

"  MY  DEAR  FRIEND, — If  I  have  not  availed 
myself  to-day,  Sunday,  of  your  kind  invitation, 
you  must  put  it  down  to  the  publication  of  the 
enclosed  book,  which  necessitates  the  doing  of  a 
hundred  and  one  things,  and  would  have  prevented 


THE  FETES  GALANTES  133 

my  going  to  P^lago,  even  if  it  had  not  happened 
that  my  concierge  only  handed  me  your  letter  at 
ten  o'clock  this  morning.  But  count  on  me  for  next 
Sunday  at  the  earliest  possible  hour ;  you  know 
what  time  I  have  in  the  week!  I  send  you  the 
Fetes  galantes,  not  for  nothing !  An  article,  bursting 
with  praise — or  death  !  A  fig  for  Woinez  !  I  shall 
send  it  perhaps  to  Barbum.  (Charles  Woinez, 
literary  critic  of  the  Nainjaune. — Barbum,  Barbey 
d'Aurevilly), 

"  Till  Sunday  then,  and  a  hearty  handshake, 

"  P.  VERLAINE. 

"  P.S. — While  awaiting  decapitation  at  the  hand 
of  Rigault,  shake  his  old  fist  for  me.  (Raoul 
Rigault,  afterwards  attorney  to  the  Commune,  was 
with  me  in  Sainte-Pdagie.) 

"  2nd  P.S. — If  you  may  write  to  me,  try  and 
do  so;  you  ought  to  have  time." 

He  was  very  anxious  for  an  article  on  his 
F&tes  galantes,  and  mentioned  the  matter  again  in 
the  following  note,  but  I  could  not  fall  in  with  his 
suggestions  either  for  the  article  or  the  appointment 
at  the  meeting  at  Belleville,  which  was  probably 
organised  on  the  occasion  of  Gambetta's  candidature. 
On  the  date  indicated  I  was  still  in  prison. 

"  8/£  April  1869. 

"  MY  DEAR  FRIEND, — Are  you  going  to-morrow 
evening  to  the  meeting  at  Belleville?  I  shall  be 
there  at  eight  o'clock,  8  Rue  de  Paris.  There  will 
be  grand  doings  after  the  probable  dissolution. 
By  the  way,  you  are  naught  '  qu'un  pitre  et  qu'un 
Berthoud  '  (from  Banville)  for  not  having  yet  spoken 
of  the  Fetes  galantes.  I  count  on  receiving  a 


1S4  PAUL  VERLAINE 

number  of  the  journal  on  the  day  you  put  it  in. 
The  thing  is  worth  the  trouble,  and  the  delay  will 
be  condoned  only  on  these  terms. 

"  To-morrow  at  eight  o'clock.  In  any  case  I  am 
always  at  the  *  Ville '  from  half-past  ten  till  four. — 
Ever  yours,  P.  VERLAINE." 

One  cannot  always  do  what  one  likes  on  the 
press  any  more  than  in  life,  particularly  in  the 
matter  of  placing  an  article  of  a  eulogistic  nature 
on  a  volume  of  verse.  Verlaine  was  not  deceived 
with  regard  to  the  curiosity  of  the  public,  nor  the 
eagerness  of  newspaper  editors ;  he  simply  ignored 
them. 

At  the  end  of  July,  for  some  reason  or  other, 
the  promised  article  had  not  appeared.  Verlaine, 
who  had  gone  to  his  relatives  in  the  north,  where 
he  was  joined  by  Charles  de  Sivry — it  was  at  the 
time  when  there  was  first  talk  of  the  marriage  which 
took  place  a  year  afterwards — recalled  his  F&tes 
galantes  to  me  in  forcible  terms  : 

"  FAMPOUX,  $ist  July  1869. 

"That  wretched  Sivry,  who  is  stopping  here, 
tells  me  he  forgot  to  deliver  a  letter  I  placed  in 
his  charge  for  you.  In  it  I  told  you  I  was  leaving 
here,  and  that  I  was  not  very  well ;  I  am  now 
better,  thank  goodness !  Apparently,  foul  creature, 
you  are  no  longer  to  be  found  at  Battur's  (Baptiste, 
waiter  at  the  Brasserie  des  Martyrs).  What  crime 
are  you  then  meditating  in  secret  ?  Naught  to 
do  with  my  fame,  shameless  scribbler,  for  I  have 
no  news  of  an  article  from  your  pen  in  regard  to 
the  famous  and  exquisite  Fdtes  galantes.  Be  a 
great  poet  now,  and  have  the  condescension  to 
-press  the  hands  of  the  villains  in  Room  7,  and  give 


THE  FETES  GALANTES  135 


them  the  customary  bock,  so  that  they  may  com- 
pound for  you  a  passable  concoction  of  advertise- 
ment in  their  miserable  papers,  which  always  fall 
short  just  when  one  thinks  they  may  be  turned 
to  some  advantage. 

"And  Me'rat's  Parnasse?  Woinez  is  obscene. 
(Charles  Woinez  borrowed  through  the  medium 
of  Verlaine  and  myself  the  volume  of  the  Parnasse 
Contemporain,  belonging  to  the  poet  M£rat,  for  an 
article  on  the  Parnassians  which  never  appeared.) 
I  hear  that  Nina's  grand  soiree  was  very  chic. 
Olympe  Audouard  was  there,  but  Brididum  (La 
Vieillesse  de  Brididi,  a  vaudeville  by  Henri  Roche- 
fort)  was  not  played  for  lack  of  the  principal  actor 
(I,  if  you  please).  Have  you  been  to  Meurice's 
lately?  What  news  is  there  in  Paris?  Here  I 
am  in  absolute  exile  and  know  nothing  of  any- 
thing. Have  you  sent  something  to  Lemerre  for 
the  Parnasse  ?  (for  the  second  volume).  It  seems 
that  Mendes'  Swedenborgian  poem  has  appeared 
in  La  Libert^.  I  am  in  a  lazy  mood,  and  for  two 
days  have  not  touched  that  ridiculous  thing  called 
verse.  I  believe  I  have  a  counterpart  on  the 
banks  of  the  Seine  in  you.  I  hope,  vile  wretch, 
you  will  answer  my  letter  soon  (Fampoux,  Pas-de- 
Calais,  chez  M.  Julien  Derive),  and  tell  me  all  you 
are  doing ;  of  course,  whatever  it  is,  is  infamous. 
Awaiting  your  reply,  I  press  your  fins,  and  am, 
your  very  cordial  enemy,  P.  VERLAINE. 

"P.S. — My  respects  and  compliments  to  your 
people." 

I  do  not  know  if  this  famous  article  on  the 
F§tes  galantes  now  appeared  in  the  Nain  Jaune. 
I  have  not  the  numbers  by  me,  and  have  kept  but 
few  of  my  articles  belonging  to  that  period.  One 
is  very  careless  about  such  things  in  early  youth. 


136  PAUL  VERLAINE 

I  made  it  up  to  Verlaine  afterwards.  As  I 
had  charge  of  the  Chronique  Parisienne  and  the 
dramatic  criticism  in  the  Nain  Jaune  when  Barbey 
d'Aurevilly  was  away  at  Valognes  writing  his 
truculent  Chevalier  Destouches,  it  was  difficult  for 
me  to  review  books.  That  was  the  domain  of 
another  colleague  who  took  fright  at  the  least 
indication  of  encroachment,  but  I  had  some  influ- 
ence on  the  journal,  and  therefore  several  poems 
of  Verlaine's  were  inserted  in  it,  one  of  which, 
Le  Monstre,  partook  of  the  nature  of  a  political 
allegory.  He  thanked  me  as  follows : 

"  MY  DEAR  EDMOND,  —  Besides  the  volume 
promised  I  send  you  some  verses  which  seem  to 
me  not  unworthy  of  the  honour  of  print.  If 
you  wish  to  stand  godfather  to  them  with  G.  G. 
(Gregory  Genesco,  the  manager  of  the  journal), 
and  through  that  influence  which  Paulus  found  to 
such  advantage,  procure  an  asylum  for  them  in  the 
Nain  Jaune,  reply  (if  you  please)  to  Rue  Neuve  49, 
and  you  will  merit  the  gratitude  of  their  father. 

"  P.  VERLAINE. 

"P.S. — Viotti  wishes  success  to  the  fruits  of 
your  pen,  and  to  let  you  know  through  me  that 
the  Sieur  Sivry,  counterpointist,  has  not  yet 
deserted  Normandy. 

"  In  case  of  success,  correct  the  proof  very  care- 
fully',  and  return  me  the  manuscript.  P.  V." 

A  second  and  more  forcible  letter  reproached 
me  with  not  having  corrected  the  proofs  of  his 
poem  with  sufficient  care: 

"  TUESDAY. 

"  FEATHERBRAIN, — You  have  not  attended  to  my 
instructions  at  all  I  wrote  'rhythme'  distinctly, 


THE  FETES  GALANTES  137 

and  it  has  been  printed  wrong.  Don't  you  see 
clearly  ?  The  *  A  xxx '  and  the  date  have  been 
omitted,  why  ?  You  know  I  never  send  the  printer 
anything  I  do  not  wish  printed,  and  therefore  feel 
aggrieved  when  some  printer  or  another  takes  it 
upon  himself  to  mutilate  my  MS. 

"After  fault-finding,  compliments*  you  have 
given  proof,  dear  Edmond,  of  real  good-will  and 
charming  persistence.  I  beg  you  to  accept  here- 
with my  most  sincere  and  affectionate  thanks. 

"  P.  VERLAINE. 

"  Kind  regards  to  your  family. 

"  I  enclose  a  sonnet,  f  use  f  abuse.  .  .  . 

"When  M.  Woinez  has  finished  with  Marat's 
Parnasse  please  let  him  have  it  back  at  once. 

"  On  Saturday,  Rue  Chaptal  or  at  Battur's. 

"P.  VERLAINE." 

At  Battur's,  as  I  have  said,  meant  at  the 
Brasserie  des  Martyrs,  where  the  waiter  who  served 
us  was  called  Baptiste,  corrupted  to  Battur.  Rue 
Chaptal,  in  other  words  Nina's,  was  an  amusing 
lively,  odd  house,  where  we  passed  many  pleasant 
evenings.  It,  too,  had  some  share  in  bringing 
together  the  literary  and  political  youth  of  1869, 
and  therefore  a  description  of  it  is  indispensable 
to  a  study  of  Verlaine  and  his  strange  and  powerful 
genius. 


CHAPTER   VI 

AT   NINA'S — THE    CONTEMPORARY  PARNASSUS 
(1868-1869) 

MADAME  NINA  DE  CALLIAS  was,  in  1868,  a  young 
woman  of  twenty-two  or  twenty-three,  small,  plump, 
vivacious,  clever,  excitable,  a  little  hysterical,  and 
very  attractive,  who  left  behind  her  a  deserved 
reputation  for  eccentricity,  daring,  and  free-handed 
hospitality.  In  the  last  days  of  the  Empire  she  loved 
to  get  together  in  her  modest  and  simply  furnished 
apartment  in  the  handsome  house,  No.  17  Rue 
Chaptal,  young  people  interested  in  literature,  art, 
and  politics,  who  were  attracted  thither  by  its 
gaiety  and  free  and  easy  ways,  and  induced  to 
remain  by  the  amiability  of  their  hostess.  Once 
there  we  found  ourselves  among  friends ;  it  was 
like  a  club  minus  rules  and  baccarat.  One  could 
drop  in  at  Nina's,  no  matter  how  late  it  was, 
certain  to  find  amusing  society,  to  hear  the  latest 
verse,  exchange  news  and  talk  ill  of  the  Govern- 
ment, or  successful  literary  men,  according  as  one 
was  political  or  literary,  for  the  two  sets  fraternised 
without  actually  mingling.  I  belonged  to  both  in 
virtue  of  my  double  qualifications  of  Parnassian 
and  Republican  journalist,  recently  imprisoned. 
Ah,  what  a  strange,  fairy-like  little  creature  was 
138 


AT  NINA'S  189 


Nina,  so  excitable,  so  laughing,  so  fascinating ;  we 
all  retain  the  happiest  recollection  of  her.  Verlaine 
wrote :  "  Some  of  us  were  often  to  be  found  at  the 
charming  Nina's,  of  whom,  and  her  artistic  nature 
prematurely  devoured  by  its  own  fire,  I  have  spoken 
here  and  there  inadequately." 

She  was  a  very  good  musician,  playing  the 
piano  like  a  professional,  and  occasionally  com- 
posing, but  never  inflicting  her  nocturnes  and 
concert  caprices  on  us.  She  adored  poetry,  and 
possessed  the  merit  of  refraining  from  writing  it. 
Eager  to  learn  everything,  feverish  to  do  every- 
thing, indefatigable  and  complex,  she  was  in 
advance  of  the  women  of  her  day.  The  first 
time  I  saw  her  she  wore  a  breast-pad  and  short 
petticoat,  and  was  taking  a  lesson  in  fencing  from 
an  assistant  of  good  Maitre  Cordelois.  She  had 
a  passion  for  everything,  politics,  literature,  philo- 
sophy, mathematics,  and  spiritualism.  Magic  had  a 
special  attraction  for  her.  As  the  fencing  master 
went  out  the  professor  of  necromancy  came  in  to 
give  his  lesson  in  all  seriousness,  and  in  the  mean- 
while there  were  scales  and  exercises  on  the  Erard 
grand  piano.  She  had  met  Henri  Rochefort  at 
Geneva,  and  had  conceived  for  the  celebrated 
pamphleteer  a  friendship  which,  had  circumstances 
been  favourable,  might  have  degenerated  into  a 
more  positive  sentiment.  She  wrote  in  remem- 
brance of  him  on  notepaper  with  a  lantern  as 
heading. 

Cordial  and  familiar  with  every  one,  she  had  no 
recognised  lover,  at  least  in  the  first  years  of  her 
Bohemian  career.  Charles  Cros,  the  poet  of  the 
Coffret  de  SantaL,  the  inaugurator  of  monologues 


140  PAUL   VERLAINE 

(Le  Hareng  Saur),  and  the  inventor,  before  Edison, 
of  the  phonograph,  was  very  attentive  to  her.  He 
performed  the  functions  of  obliging  secretary  and 
steward,  and  passed  as  being  specially  favoured. 
With  his  woolly  hair  and  negro  type  of  face,  the 
whimsical  and  ingenious  Charles  seemed  ill  equipped 
for  the  role  of  lover.  I  believe  the  part  he  played 
was  merely  that  of  general  utility  man.  Bazire,  a 
singular  young  man  with  an  intermittent  stutter,  a 
colleague  of  Rochefort's  on  the  Marseillaise  and 
afterwards  on  the  Intransigeant,  and  a  violent 
Republican  who  was  proceeded  against  for  having 
abused  the  Emperor  Napoleon  III.  one  day  when 
he  was  walking  on  the  terrace  of  the  Tuilleries 
near  the  revolving  bridge,  was  also  credited  with 
being  on  the  footing  of  a  lover.  This  supposi- 
tion might  have  been  true  later  on,  after  the  war, 
when  Nina  went  to  live  in  the  Rue  des  Moines, 
Batignolles,  under  the  name  of  Nina  de  Villars ; 
but  I  had  lost  sight  of  her  then. 

She  was  the  daughter  of  a  Lyons  barrister, 
M.  Gaillard,  and  had  been  in  possession  of  a  con- 
siderable fortune,  of  which  there  only  remained 
an  assured  income  of  20,000  francs,  and  this  she 
spent  to  the  last  sou;  happily  the  capital  could 
not  be  touched.  She  lived  with  her  mother,  who 
was,  I  believe,  the  largest  contributor  to  the  house- 
hold expenses.  Madame  Gaillard  looked  a  strange 
figure  as  she  moved  amongst  us,  clad  always  in 
mourning,  sombre,  imperturbable,  and  apparently 
unconscious  of  our  wildest  uproars.  She  neither 
approved  nor  condemned  our  most  outrageous 
pranks,  absolutely  ignoring  them.  Her  constant 
companion  was  a  horrible  little  monkey,  which 


AT  NINA'S  141 

perched  on  her  shoulder,  made  grimaces,  and 
sometimes  turned  his  back  on  us.  Nina  had  only 
been  married  a  very  short  time  to  a  well-known 
and  brilliant  journalist,  Hector  de  Callias.  He, 
too,  was  a  character  and  as  eccentric  as  the  little 
wife  whom  he  could  neither  appreciate,  make 
happy,  nor  retain.  He  was  a  confirmed  absinthe 
drinker,  and  presented  to  the  good  citizens  who 
beheld  him  sitting  at  table  in  the  "  Rat  Mort" 
or  the  "  Nouvelle  Athenes,"  a  perfect  copy  of  the 
popular  caricature  of  a  literary  Bohemian.  Hector 
de  Callias  lacked  neither  wit  nor  talent.  He  had 
distinguished  himself  in  the  large  circle  of  well- 
known  journalists.  At  the  Figaro  he  had  won  the 
interest  of  Villemessant,  who  in  his  will  bequeathed 
him  a  small  income  sufficient  for  food,  or  rather 
drink. 

When  his  wife  died,  Hector  de  Callias,  although 
separated  from  her  for  long  years,  thought  proper  to 
attend  the  funeral,  which  took  place  at  Montrouge. 
In  dignified  fashion,  dressed  in  black  with  the  con- 
ventional white  tie,  he  headed  the  mourners,  and  did 
the  honours  of  the  sad  ceremony  to  the  few  present. 

Poor  Nina  had  finally  succumbed  to  the  effects 
of  the  over-excitement,  late  nights,  and  freaks,  which 
were  the  normal  conditions  of  her  existence.  The 
guests  of  the  bizarre  evenings  in  the  Rue  des 
Moines  were  other  than  those  of  the  Rue  Chaptal. 
The  former  habituh  had  now  become  academicians, 
famous,  married,  or  had  died,  and  with  the  exception 
of  L<k>n  Dierx,  Sivry,  and  a  few  others,  no  old  friends 
came  to  the  new  "  Maison  de  la  Vieille  "  described 
by  Catulle  Mendes.  The  decadent,  the  mystic,  the 
superb  elbowed  poet-smokers  from  the  Brasseries, 


142  PAUL   VERLAINE 

and  vague  anarchists  come  to  talk  of  secret 
bombs  and  new  explosives  amid  the  popping  of 
champagne  corks  at  three  francs  a  bottle,  which 
liquid  flowed  as  in  the  past,  in  a  continual  stream. 
The  unfortunate  Nina  lost  her  reason  in  the  tumult 
which  had  been  her  joy.  She  had  quaffed  the  cup 
of  uproar,  as  her  husband  poisonous  alcohol,  once 
too  often,  and  died  a  lunatic. 

The  presence  of  this  husband  long  lost  to 
sight,  although  a  shock,  made  no  one  angry  ;  no 
formalists  nor  prudes  had  haunted  Nina's,  and, 
moreover,  it  was  possible  that  during  some  lucid 
interval  in  her  last  moments  the  poor  demented 
one  had  expressed  a  desire  to  see  once  more  the 
man  whose  name  she  had  borne.  Moreover,  the 
behaviour  of  Callias  was  perfect  throughout  the 
ceremony.  Those  ignorant  of  the  history  of  this 
singular  couple  might  have  deemed  him  an  afflicted 
widower  rendering  the  last  tokens  of  respect  to 
a  much-regretted  wife. 

But  once  the  childish  coffin  was  lowered  into 
the  grave,  Callias,  regardless  of  appearances,  did 
not  stay  for  the  final  handshakes  of  the  departing 
guests,  but  disappeared  across  the  tombs.  The 
world  is  not  always  censorious,  and  seeing  that 
he  had  been  separated  from  the  dead  woman,  some 
thought  this  seemly  conduct,  and  Charles  Cros 
took  his  place.  But  this  charitable  view  was  an 
erroneous  one.  Callias  went  because  he  could 
no  longer  endure  his  thirst.  The  occasion  was  a 
trying  one,  and  for  the  five  hours  occupied  by  the 
procession,  the  ceremony  in  church  and  in  the 
cemetery,  he  had  not  moistened  his  throat. 
Having  resolved  to  respect  the  conventions,  he 


AT  NINA'S  143 

had  resisted  the  temptation  to  leave  the  cortege 
on  the  way  for  an  absinthe  in  one  of  the  innumer- 
able cafe's  lining  the  route  from  the  Batignolles 
to  the  Porte  d'Orleans.  But  there  was  a  limit 
to  his  power  of  resistance,  and  when  the  dead 
body  had  been  confided  to  the  earth,  he  hastened 
from  the  scene  in  order  to  fly  to  the  nearest  counter 
and  quench  the  thirst  that  rivalled  a  shipwrecked 
sailor's. 

Three  days  afterwards  he  was  encountered  at 
two  o'clock  in  the  morning  in  the  Quartier  Pigalle, 
carefully  picking  his  way  and  haranguing  the  gas- 
lamps,  still  in  the  black  suit  and  with  a  tie  which 
had  once  been  white.  He  had  not  been  home 
since  the  funeral  ceremony,  and  had  only  reached 
his  own  quarter  after  prolonged  stoppages  in  the 
Quartier  Latin,  the  Halles,  and  the  Faubourg 
Montmartre,  at  all  the  drinking  -  shops  on  the 
way  ;  thus  making  up  on  the  return  journey  for 
his  abstinence  on  the  outward. 

It  was  seldom  that  Hector  de  Callias  was 
intoxicated  in  his  evening  clothes.  He  was  a 
professional  drunkard  with  definite  customs  and 
methods.  When  he  received  his  pension  at  the 
Figaro,  he  arranged  the  manner  in  which  he  would 
return  after  his  visits  to  the  cafes  of  the  Quartier 
Pigalle.  He  took  care  of  his  elegantly  cut  and 
spotless  garments  :  velvet  breeches,  braided  shoot- 
ing coat  and  soft  felt  hat — the  uniform  of  his  kind. 

After  this  lengthy  funeral  outing,  Callias  now 
and  again  deserted  the  Quartier  Pigalle.  He  had 
taken  a  fancy  to  the  wine-shops  of  the  Quartier 
Latin  as  he  returned  from  the  cemetery,  and  in 
his  Bacchic  wanderings  he  came  across  Verlaine. 


144  PAUL  VERLAINE 

They  fraternised,  glass  in  hand,  and  unconsciously 
drifted  into  talk  about  their  wives  ;  one  dead,  the 
other  divorced.  They  vied  with  each  other  in 
regrets,  laments,  and  abuse,  cursing  even  while  they 
mourned  the  lost  ones. 

From  time  to  time,  urged  by  friendly  doctors 
uneasy  at  his  condition,  Callias  went  for  a  sort 
of  cure  into  the  country,  to  breathe  fresh  air  and 
drink  fresh  milk.  It  was  all  very  well  for  a  few 
days,  and  then  he  suddenly  quitted  the  farm  for 
an  inn,  and  ordered  an  absinthe.  Having  thus 
taken  breath,  he  regarded  himself  as  cured,  and 
took  the  train  back  to  Paris,  where  he  at  once 
resumed  his  usual  habits.  It  was  during  one  of 
these  cures  that  he  succumbed  at  Fontainebleau  to 
a  congestion.  Probably  it  was  the  milk  which  killed 
him  ;  he  was  not  accustomed  to  it. 

However,  to  return  to  the  salon  in  the  Rue 
Chaptal,  where  Verlaine  was  a  frequent  visitor ;  it 
was  composite  and  eclectic,  easy  and  yet  difficult 
of  access.  It  was  necessary  to  belong  to  the  set, 
to  be  a  budding  academician  or  youthful  legislator ; 
it  mattered  little  whether  your  aspirations  were 
literary,  artistic,  or  political,  but  one  of  the  three 
was  essential.  Other  folk  were  not  admitted,  and 
if  one  managed  to  creep  in,  he  never  came  again  ; 
the  raillery,  rough,  sometimes  intolerable,  of  which 
he  was  the  butt,  proved  too  much  for  him. 

Some  one  among  the  young  poets,  artists, 
painters,  journalists,  and  politicians  of  Montmartre 
would  say  at  the  Cafe"  de  Madrid  or  the  Cafe"  de 
Fleurus  :  "  Let  us  go  to  Nina's,"  and  off  they  would 
troop  at  once  in  a  body.  Thus  were  organised 
pleasure  parties  at  night  after  a  society  function,  a 


AT   NINA'S  145 

gathering  at  the  Sous- Prefecture,  or  a  day  in  the 
country,  when  the  regular  establishments  had  closed 
their  doors,  and  sent  away  their  customers.  There 
was  no  closing  hour  at  Nina's  ;  the  door  was  always 
open  and  the  table  spread.  There  were  three  sofas 
often  occupied  after  the  departure  of  the  bulk  of  the 
guests,  by  those  who  lived  at  a  distance,  and  feared 
to  return  home  in  the  small  hours.  At  whatever  time 
one  retired  one  was  not  the  last.  I  never  could  make 
out  when  Nina,  at  length  left  alone,  went  to  bed  for 
a  well-earned  repose. 

Growing    notabilities    and     coming    celebrities 
found  themselves   cheek   by  jowl   at    Nina's.     To 
be   seen   were    Fra^ois    Copp6e,    with    his    First 
Consul   face,    reciting    in    melancholy   fashion    his 
Intimit^s ;  Leon  Dierx  of  the  poetic  isles,  tossing 
back  his  beautiful  black  hair  as  he  declaimed  his 
Filaos.     Charles  Cros  describing  in  mocking  tones 
the  oscillations  of  a  red  herring,  suspended  from 
a  wall  bare,  bare,  bare  at  the  end  of  a  thread  long, 
long,  long ;  a  tale  invented  to  amuse  the  children, 
little,  little,  little  ;  Anatole  France,  Mendes,  Me>at, 
Valade,  and  all  the  habitues  of  the  Salon  Ricard, 
while  Charles  de  Sivry  improvised  at  the  piano, 
Dumont    played    Hungarian    airs    on    the   zither, 
Frances,  the  splendid  comedian  of  the  Palais- Royal, 
with  the  shrewd  face  of  a  country  cure",  recounted, 
swelling  his  voice  and  rolling  his  eyes  as  fiercely 
as   he   could,    how    Sarragossa    was   taken,    Henri 
Cros,    modeller   in    wax,   quietly   reproduced    in   a 
corner  the  little  head  of  the  mistress  of  the  house, 
and  Villiers  de  1' Isle- Adam  grimaced   and    reeled 
off  the  most  unexpected  apothegms  of  Dr  Tribulat 
Bonhomet,  heroic   Prudhomme  and  huge  Homais. 


146  PAUL  VERLAINE 

Among  the  politicians  were  Abel  Peyrouton,  one 
of  the  originators  of  the  public  meetings  at   the 
Pre"-aux-Clercs  and  the  Redoute,  a  nervous  barrister 
of  abrupt  speech  and  authoritative  gesture,  who  had 
delivered  a  vigorous  harangue  over  Baudin's  grave, 
which   had   recently   been   discovered    among   the 
tombs  in  the  cemetery  Montmartre.     This  chance 
occurrence,  the  subscription  in  the  Rtveil,  and  the 
notorious  case  brought  against  Charles  Delescluze, 
laid  the  foundation  of  the  oratorical  and  literary 
fortune  of  L6on  Gambetta.     Among  the  Republican 
habitues  were  the  big  good-hearted  Emile  Richard, 
editor  of  Delescluze's  Rdveil,  and  afterwards  Presi- 
dent of  the  Municipal  Council ;  Gustave  Flourens, 
a  revolutionary  apostle,  destined  to  a  tragic  death 
at  Chatou  by  a  policeman's  sword ;  Raoul  Rigault, 
the  famous  attorney  and   Prefect  of  Police  under 
the  Commune,  who  at  supper  would  willingly  take 
upon   himself  to   carve   the   blushing   ham,   mani- 
pulating the  large  knife  as  lovingly  as  if  he  were 
brandishing  the  legal  sword  over  the  necks  of  the 
rtacs.     He  would  propose   a   toast   to  Chaumette 
or  Anacharsis    Klootz,   in   between  a  pantoum  of 
Mallarm^'s  and  a  F£te  galante  of  Verlaine's,  recited 
by  the  authors,  or  the  waltz  of  the  Sylphes,  played 
by  Ferdinand  ReVillon,  pianist  and  popular  agitator, 
afterwards   manager   of   the    Customs    under    the 
Commune. 

The  amusements  were  of  the  most  varied  kind. 
Charades  were  improvised,  Jeanne  Samary,  the 
future  Martine  of  the  Theatre- Francois,  opened  the 
treasure-box  of  her  laughing  mouth,  reciting  frag- 
ments of  her  repertoire  ;  her  incessant  laugh  rippling 
forth  as  if  set  in  motion  by  a  spring.  Catulle  Mendes 


AT  NINA'S  147 

shaking  his  fair  hair  slowly  and  gravely  sang  "  Les 
vaches  au  flanc  roux  qui  portent  les  aurores." 
Coppe'e  parodied  Theodore  de  Banville.  Imita- 
tions were  given  of  popular  comedians,  Gil  Peres, 
Lassouche,  Brasseur.  Military  anecdotes  were 
narrated,  long  before  they  formed  part  of  the  rtper- 
toire  of  Polin,  who  reproduced  them;  and  lastly, 
laments  were  chanted,  and  burlesque  Christmas 
carols  intoned,  reviewing  the  events  of  the  year  in 
vaudeville  couplets.  Nina's  salon  was  to  a  certain 
extent  in  the  mockery,  fantasy,  nonsense,  and 
modernity  of  its  poems,  songs  and  little  plays,  all 
invented  in  the  highest  of  spirits,  the  predecessor 
and  forerunner  of  the  Chat  Noir. 

There  was  even  to  be  heard  a  species  of  that 
literary  slang,  which  was  in  time  to  obtain  a  great 
vogue  and  make  the  reputation  of  Aristide  Bruant 
and  his  wine-shop.  Verlaine  first  gave  this  coarse 
and  popular  note,  afterwards  to  be  greatly  abused, 
in  a  bizarre  and  altogether  exceptional  poem,  of 
which  I  have  the  original  embellished  by  a  pen 
drawing  representing  the  personage,  with  whom  it 
is  concerned  in  clerkly  costume :  check  trousers, 
open  waistcoat,  swelling  shirt,  tie  in  a  sailor's  knot, 
high  cap,  and  with  hands  thrust  deep  into  pockets. 
This  caricature,  both  words  and  sketch,  was  doubt- 
less inspired  by  a  nocturnal  expedition  made  by 
Verlaine  and  myself,  clad  in  blouses  and  peaked 
caps  obtained  from  the  emporium,  patronised  by 
the  gentlemen  of  La  Villette,  of  the  hatter  Desfoux, 
Rue  du  Pont-Neuf. 

We  had  taken  it  into  our  heads  to  explore  the 
haunts  of  Le  Combat  and  M<£nilmontant.  At  the 
Bal  Gelin,  then  held  at  M^nilmontant,  Verlaine  with 


148  PAUL   VERLAINE 

his  flat  nose,  his  piercing  eyes,  and  his  strange  aspect, 
inspired  the  habitues  of  both  sexes  with  terrified 
admiration  ;  they  took  him  for  a  mec  who  would  not 
hesitate  to  draw  his  knife.  We  quaffed  mugs  of  vin 
bleu  in  company  with  two  or  three  of  the  fair  dancers 
at  this  ball,  where  such  a  thing  as  a  high  kick  was 
never  known,  and  the  gaiety  had  a  mournful  con- 
strained aspect,  chastened  into  seeming  quiet  by 
the  severe,  all  -  pervading  eyes  of  the  municipal 
guards,  chosen  from  among  the  strongest  and  most 
energetic  members  of  the  corps.  Thanks  to  my 
knowledge  of  the  slang,  we  were  able  to  sustain 
our  parts,  and  not  incur  the  suspicion,  fraught  with 
peril  directly  we  were  outside,  of  being  police  in 
disguise.  Verlaine  talked  little ;  he  observed, 
smoked  and  drank  persistently.  The  adventure 
went  off  without  any  incident  except  an  unex- 
pected colloquy  as  we  made  our  way  out,  with  a 
thin,  pale,  sharp  youngster,  fifteen  at  most,  who 
offered  oranges,  apples,  cakes,  and  sweets  for  sale, 
in  a  flat  basket  suspended  from  his  neck. 

"Allume,"  said  he  to  the  poet  in  a  hoarse 
whisper,  "  a  gauche  de  la  gonde,  y  a  dTarnacle.  .  .  ." 
Adding  still  more  indistinctly  "  Je  suis  rien  fauche, 
vieux,  r'file  -  moi  un  patard."  Verlaine  stood 
bewildered,  rather  uneasy.  Happily  I  understood. 
"  Look,"  the  urchin  had  said  in  his  allegorical  way 
to  the  author  of  the  F&tes  galantes,  whom  he  seemed 
to  take  for  a  distinguished  kindred  spirit;  "to  the 
left  of  the  door  are  secret  police."  And  as  a  reward 
for  this  information,  which  was  perhaps  trumped  up 
in  order  to  throw  us  off  our  guard,  the  rogue  having 
divined  our  disguise,  he  added,  "  I  have  no  money, 
give  me  two  sous." 


AT  NINA'S  149 

I  r'filai  our  informant  the  ten  centimes  he 
asked  for,  and  hurried  Verlaine  away  through  a 
dimly  lighted  corridor,  and  out  of  the  door  of 
egress.  Having  lighted  our  pipes  we  gave  our- 
selves the  pleasure  of  a  stroll  along  the  outer 
boulevard,  past  the  numberless  girls  posted  under 
the  trees.  Some  thought  they  recognised  us,  and 
made  signs  to  which  we  responded  with  a  friendly 
patronising  gesture.  On  approaching  the  Cafe  du 
Delta  we  pulled  off  our  blouses  in  the  shelter  of 
a  newspaper  kiosk,  and  with  our  peaked  caps  pre- 
sented the  appearance  no  longer  of  " terrors"  out 
on  the  spree,  but  of  peaceable  citizens  come  for  a 
neighbourly  glass.  Moreover,  Verlaine  was  known 
at  this  cafe,  and  his  presence  attracted  no  more 
attention  than  his  headgear. 

This  escapade,  which  recalled  the  adventures  of 
the  hero  of  the  Mysteres  de  Paris,  with  this  difference, 
that  no  Fleur-de- Marie  presented  herself  to  our  view, 
indeed  we  had  not  gone  to  the  Bal  Gelin  for  the  pur- 
pose of  discovering,  as  good  Prince  Rodolphe  did,  the 
pure  among  the  prostitutes,  inspired  Verlaine  with  the 
masterpiece  of  slang  aforesaid,  entitled  LAmi  de 
la  Nature.  Recited  at  Nina's,  its  originality  and 
picturesqueness  made  it  a  great  success.  The  style 
was  then  completely  new,  the  literature  Mont- 
martroise  not  having  been  invented.  The  piece  is 
included  in  the  supplementary  volume  of  the  com- 
plete works ;  it  does  not  add  to  Verlaine's  lyrical 
fame,  but  affords  an  illustration  of  that  curious 
element  in  his  character  and  talent  —  saturnine 
gaiety. 

At  Madame  de  Ricard's,   after   the   recitations 
and  charades,  towards  one  o'clock  in  the  morning, 


150  PAUL   VERLAINE 

when  the  number  of  guests  had  begun  to  thin,  we 
frequently  used  to  retire  into  a  little  salon,  and 
seating  ourselves  round  a  small,  circular  table, 
covered  with  a  cloth,  make  up  a  party  sufficiently 
attractive  to  detain  us  from  sleep  until  dawn.  We 
played  for  low  stakes  some  game  of  chance, 
lansquenet,  now  altogether  forgotten,  or  more 
rarely  baccarat.  L.-X.  de  Ricard  did  not  play,  and 
Verlaine  seldom  sat  down,  but  Coppe"e  and  Dierx 
were  born  gamblers. 

At  Nina's  we  never  played,  but  our  vigils  were 
even  more  prolonged,  for  we  supped  and  we  drank — 
which  pleased  Verlaine  better  than  cards.  Want 
of  sleep  greatly  contributed  to  the  development 
among  many  of  us  of  nervousness,  irritability,  and  a 
kind  of  permanent  feverishness,  not  very  pleasant 
for  other  people  in  our  everyday  life. 

Verlaine  was  very  excitable,  and  more  than 
once  I  had  proof  of  the  unfortunate  state  of 
tension  of  his  nerves.  The  trial  in  Belgium,  in 
consequence  of  the  unfortunate  shot  fired  at 
Rimbaud,  full  details  of  which  will  be  given  later, 
was  kept  from  me  at  the  time  as  from  every  one 
else.  Had  I  been  informed  at  once  I  could  have 
borne  witness  to  the  fact  that  Verlaine,  in  certain 
moments  of  excitement,  when  under  the  influence 
of  drink,  was  liable  to  commit  violent,  rash,  blind 
acts.  He  was  not  defended  as  he  should  have  been 
before  the  Brabant  magistrates  ;  his  occasional  irre- 
sponsibility being  a  proved  fact. 

One  Saturday,  leaving  Nina's  at  dawn  on  a 
pleasant  day  in  spring,  we  took  it  into  our  heads 
to  go  out  into  the  country  and  breathe  the  fresh 
air.  We  lounged  along  the  outer  boulevards  towards 


AT  NINA'S  151 

the  Bois-de- Boulogne,  and  talking,  smoking,  dream- 
ing,  arrived  at  the  Pre"-Catelan,   where  we  stayed 
to  drink  milk  and  discuss   new-laid  eggs.     There 
were  a  good  many  customers  in  the  place,  it  being 
the   final  halt  for  the  nightbirds  that  issued  from 
the  all-night  restaurants,  the   bars   of,  the  Halles, 
and  the  cellars  of  Hill  and  Frontin.     Verlaine  had 
an    altercation   with    a   party   seated   near,    but    I 
interposed  and  led  him  away.     It  must  be  confessed 
that  after  the  milk  ana  eggs  he  had  asked  for  coffee 
and  gin,  and  drunk  largely  of  it.     We  were  walking 
down  one  of  the  alleys  leading  to  the  lake  and  the 
avenue,  then  known  as  I'lmperatrice,  when  Verlaine 
conceived  the  idea  of  returning  to  the  Prd-Catelan. 
He  wanted  another  drink,  and  the  gin  beginning 
to   take  effect,  he   experienced   a   desire  to  go  in 
search  of  the  people  with  whom  he  had  quarrelled, 
probably  with  the  intention  of  renewing  the  dispute. 
His  eye  looked  vicious,  his  speech  grew  short  and 
abrupt,    and   he    brandished  his   cane   angrily.      I 
tried  to  calm  him,  and  when  he  turned  to  retrace 
his  steps  took  him  by  the  arm  to  urge  him  for- 
ward,  whereupon  he  turned  on  me  with  a  stream 
of  abuse,  and  drawing  the  stiletto  from  his  sword- 
stick  endeavoured  to  close  with  me.     I   retreated, 
and  did  my  best  to  parry  the  increasingly  furious 
thrusts  with  which  he  pressed  upon  me  excited  by 
the  struggle.     I  begged  him  to  be  reasonable,  call- 
ing out  that  it  was  a  dangerous  game,  and  one  or 
other  of  us  might  get  hurt.     He  would  not  listen 
to  me.     The  contest  was  unequal,  for  I  had  only  a 
light  cane  with  which  to  defend  myself.      I  tried  by 
aiming  at  his  wrists  to  make  him  drop  his  weapon, 
but   it  was   a  short  one,  and   the   manoeuvre  was 


152  PAUL  VERLAINE 

difficult,   as    Verlaine    wielded    it    with   wonderful 
energy. 

At  last  I  took  to  my  heels  without  any 
shame  in  so  doing,  and  rushed  among  the  under- 
growth whither  I  surmised  Verlaine,  confused  with 
intoxication,  would  not  be  able  to  get  at  me,  nor 
to  remain  for  long  in  an  upright  position.  I  had 
not  calculated  amiss  ;  as  he  came  violently  after 
me,  slashing  at  the  bushes  with  his  sword  and 
calling  down  vengeance  upon  my  head,  the  skirts 
of  his  macfarlane  caught  on  a  bough,  and  stumbling 
heavily  forward  he  dropped  his  weapon.  I  sprang 
upon  it,  and  replacing  it  in  its  sheath  gave  Verlaine 
as  I  released  him  my  inoffensive  stick  in  exchange. 
After  which  I  lectured  and  reasoned  with  him,  but 
he  continued  to  growl  and  threaten,  and  possibly 
in  spite  of  me  would  have  carried  out  his  obstinate 
drunken  idea  of  returning  to  Pre"-Catelan,  had  not 
the  noise  of  heavy  footsteps  and  snapping  twigs 
made  us  turn  our  heads ;  an  old  keeper  of  the 
Bois  was  hastening  towards  us,  evidently  intent  on 
capture.  He  must  have  been  greatly  taken  aback 
when  he  saw  the  assailant  and  assailed  make  off 
in  company  among  the  trees,  helping  and  encourag- 
ing each  other  in  their  mutual  flight,  for  I  seized 
Verlaine,  now  half-sobered  and  quite  docile,  and 
dragged  him  as  best  I  could  in  the  direction  of 
Paris ;  we  could  hear  behind  us  the  old  keeper 
puffing  and  blowing,  and  his  cries  of  stop !  stop  ! 
spurred  us  on  to  greater  efforts,  which  we  did  not 
relax  until  red,  perspiring,  breathless,  we  reached 
the  station  and  jumped  into  a  train  that  had  just 
come  in.  Once  seated,  Verlaine  began  to  snore, 
and  I  could  not  arouse  him  in  time  to  alight  at  the 


AT  NINA'S 

Batignolles,  and  we  were  carried  on  to  Saint  Lazare. 
Having  recuperated  ourselves  with  white  wine  and 
crescent  rolls  at  a  shop  in  the  Rue  Amsterdam, 
in  company  with  postmen  and  scavengers,  we 
returned  to  our  homes  in  a  more  or  less  exhausted 
condition.  It  was  half-past  six. 

This  irregular  and  unconventional  mode  of  life 
seemed  like  a  revival  of  that  followed  by  poets 
and  artists  in  the  days  of  the  battles  of  Hernani, 
or  the  fantastic  and  reckless  Bohemia  of  Petrus, 
Lassailly,  and  other  romancers.  Many  of  us,  how- 
ever, had  certain  serious,  or  at  least  less  frivolous 
duties  to  perform  during  the  day  ;  Copp£e,  Verlaine, 
Me"rat,  Valade,  and  Dierx  had  offices  which  claimed 
them  for  stated  hours.  They  protested  in  the  even- 
ing by  various  prowls,  conversations,  and  gatherings 
prolonged  far  into  the  night,  against  the  regularity 
and  monotony  of  their  diurnal  existence.  They  were 
true  neo-romantics,  and  moreover  enthusiastic  for 
Art,  believing  they  had  a  mission  for  its  revival,  and 
hearing  mysterious  voices  like  Joan  of  Arc,  which 
urged  them  to  run  counter  to  vulgarity,  platitude, 
middle-class  comedy,  realistic  novels,  and  the  com- 
merce and  production  of  paying  copy.  They  were 
ready  to  fight  and  to  overcome  in  order  to  deliver 
Art  and  to  place  it  crowned  on  its  reconquered 
throne,  not  at  Rheims  but  in  Paris. 

It  was  necessary  to  those  adventurous  van- 
quishers of  form  and  artists  who  claimed  to  be 
labourers  in  the  cause  of  Art,  to  have  a  place  of 
meeting,  a  flag,  and  a  name.  All  the  political, 
literary,  artistic,  philosophical,  scientific,  university, 
commercial,  and  sporting  circles  were  known  by 
some  distinctive  appellation.  The  Pltiade  and 


154  PAUL   VERLAINE 

Romantiques  were  examples  to  follow,  but  what 
name  should  they  adopt,  for  sometimes  the  ensign 
is  a  sorry  one,  and  a  derogatory  sobriquet  is  con- 
ferred ?  We  had  already  been  branded  by  the 
press  and  mockers  on  the  boulevards  by  various 
nicknames  :  the  Foormistes,  because  I  had  published 
mL'Art  an  article  entitled  "  L'Idee  et  la  Forme," 
in  which  I  maintained,  while  reviewing  Destutt  de 
Tracy  and  Maine  de  Biran,  that  as  there  can  be 
no  thought  without  words,  so  there  can  be  no 
artistic  idea  without  form  :  the  form  does  not  clothe 
the  idea,  it  creates  it,  just  as  in  the  physical  world 
the  body  creates  the  heart.  But  this  name  did 
not  catch  on  ;  the  Impassibles  was  next  tried  and 
was  more  popular ;  it  originated  in  an  article  by 
L.-X.  de  Ricard.  The  Fantaisistes  and  the  Stylistes 
were  also  suggested,  but  were  considered  in- 
sufficiently sarcastic,  in  fact  eulogistic.  At  last  a 
word  dawned  which  was  destined  to  survive,  to  be 
included  in  the  catalogue  of  literary  history  and 
to  designate  a  whole  generation,  even  now  active, 
militant,  triumphant :  some  one  said,  let  the  Par- 
nasse  be,  and  the  Parnasse  was ! 

We  have  already  seen  how,  thanks  to  Ernest 
Boutier,  we  had  joined  forces  with  the  enterprising 
bookseller  of  the  Passage  Choiseul,  with  the  result 
that  Alphonse  Lemerre  became  agent  for  the  journal 
UArt  and  afterwards  issued  successively  Ricard's 
del,  Rue  et  Foyer,  Verlaine's  Poemes  Saturniens, 
and  Copp6e's  Reliquaire. 

As  the  journal  LArt  did  not  pay  expenses  nor 
please  the  public,  its  clientele  being  practically  a 
free  one,  Ricard  discontinued  its  publication,  and 
a  few  sous  still  remaining  to  him  to  be  spent  on 


• 


THE   CONTEMPORARY  PARNASSUS        155 

printing,  he  published,  on  the  advice  of  Catulle 
Mendes,  and  with  the  assent  of  the  good  counsellor 
Lemerre,  the  Parnasse  Contemporain,  a  collection  of 
new  verse.  Whence  this  rococo  title !  The  name 
of  the  inventor  has  never  precisely  been  known, 
several  claimants  having  come  forward.  I  believe, 
although  I  cannot  vouch  for  it,  that  the  title  was 
suggested  by  a  philologist  who  frequented  Lemerre's, 
M.  Ch.  Marty- Lavaux,  to  whom  the  bookseller  after- 
wards entrusted  the  publication  of  the  poets  of  the 
Pltiade.  Ronsard,  the  prince  of  poets,  rehabilitated 
by  Joseph  Delorme  and  Banville,  was  held  in  great 
esteem  by  the  habitues  of  the  bookshops  in  the 
Passage  Choiseul.  However  it  was,  the  name 
caught  on,  was  banded  about,  generally  recognised, 
and  finally  the  n£o  -  romantiques  were  definitely 
grouped  together  under  the  title  of  the  Parnassians. 
Parody  was  not  wanting,  and  a  dissident  group  of 
fantastic  litterateurs,  among  whom  were  Alphonse 
Daudet,  Paul  Arene,  and  Jean  du  Boi's,  published 
under  the  title  of  Parnassiculet,  a  satiric  compila- 
tion in  which  the  efforts  of  the  Parnassians  were 
imitated  and  ridiculed.  There  were  hints  of  pro- 
testation and  strife  in  the  air,  but  duels  at  the 
point  of  the  sword;  Mendes  against  Arene,  and 
fisticuffs — Verlaine  against  Daudet,  were  unknown. 
The  Parnasse  Contemporain,  recueil  de  vers 
nouveaux,  first  edition,  on  slightly  tinted  Whatman 
paper,  with  white  cover,  format  small  in-8vo., 
sixteen  pages,  appeared  in  March  1866.  It  was 
an  eclectic  publication.  If  the  youthful  poets, 
several  of  them  still  unpublished,  who  first  of  all 
met  and  grouped  themselves  together  in  the  Revue 
Fantaisiste,  Passage  des  Princes,  then  at  Mme.  de 


156  PAUL   VERLAINE 

Ricard's,  afterwards  in  the  salon  of  Nina  de  Callias, 
in  Lemerre's  bookshop  where  the  journal  L'Art 
was  published,  at  Leconte  de  Lisle's,  Boulevard 
des  Invalides,  at  Paul  Meurice's,  Avenue  Frochot, 
and  at  Danville's,  formed  an  important  nucleus,  a 
large  and  honourable  place  indeed  was  reserved 
for  their  chiefs.  These  masters  not  only  illustrious 
but  famous,  and  also  some  little  understood  more 
obscure  ones  were  received  with  attention.  The 
Parnassians  did  not  hold  with  the  doctrine  of 
chronic  and  systematic  disrespect ;  doubtless  they 
heartily  despised  the  practical  school,  and  excom- 
municated from  the  temple  of  Art  the  Scribes  and 
the  Ponsards,  but  they  were  hospitable  to  poets 
whose  works  and  ideas  had  little  in  common  with 
the  Parnasse  and  the  Parnassians. 

The  Parnasse  was  announced  as  follows  :  The 
Parnasse  Contemporain,  a  collection  of  new  verse 
containing  unpublished  poems  by  the  principal 
poets  of  the  day,  is  issued  in  parts  of  sixteen  pages, 
which  will  appear  on  Saturday.  The  publication 
commencing  on  the  3rd  of  March  will  be  finished 
on  the  1 4th  July.  Terms  of  subscription:  8  francs 
for  Paris ;  9  francs  for  the  country.  Each  part  may 
be  obtained  separately  at  all  booksellers.  Note. — 
A  few  copies  for  collectors  will  be  printed  on 
Dutch  paper.  Price :  1 6  francs.  Paris,  Librairie 
d'Alphonse  Lemerre,  publisher  of  the  Pldiade 
Franfaise,  47  Passage  Choiseul,  and  at  all  book- 
sellers, 1866.  With  the  device:  a  man  thrusting 
his  spade  into  the  earth  (the  rising  sun  was  not 
added  until  later),  the  inscription:  Fac  et  Spera, 
and  the  monogram  A.  L.  I  need  not  tell 
collectors  that  copies  are  now  almost  unobtainable. 


THE   CONTEMPORARY  PARNASSUS       157 

Part  I.  began  with  some  poems  by  The'ophile 
Gautier:  Le  Bedouin  et  la  Mer,  Le  Bane  de 
Pierre,  Le  Lion  de  P  Atlas,  A.  L.  Sextius,  and 
La  Marguerite.  These  were  followed  by  a  long, 
unique  piece  of  verse  by  Theodore  de  Banville, 
L'Exil  des  Dieux,  and  the  part  concluded  with 
sonnets  by  Jose-Maria  de  Heredia. 

Part  II.  was  entirely  devoted  to  Leconte  de  Lisle. 
Part  III.  consisted  of  sonnets  by  Louis  M^nard, 
poems  by  F.  Coppe"e,  and  verses  by  Auguste 
Vacquerie.  Part  V.,  most  interesting  of  all,  con- 
tained the  new  Fleurs  du  Mai  by  Charles  Baudelaire. 

Then  followed  in  succession  the  publication  of 
verse  by  MM.  Le"on  Dierx,  Sully  -  Prudhomme, 
Andre*  Lemoyne,  Louis-Xavier  de  Ricard,  Antony 
Deschamps,  Paul  Verlaine,  Arsene  Houssaye, 
Leon  Valade,  St^phane  Mallarme',  Henri  Cazalis, 
Philoxene,  Boyer,  Emmanuel  des  Essarts,  Emile 
Deschamps,  Albert  Me>at,  Henry  Winter,  Armand 
Renaud,  Eugene  Lefebure,  Edmond  Lepelletier, 
Auguste  de  Chatillon,  Jules  Forni,  Charles  Coran, 
Eugene  Villemin,  Robert  Luzarche,  Alexandre 
Piedagnel,  Auguste  Villiers  de  I'lsle-Adam,  F. 
Fertiault,  Francis  Tesson,  and  Alexis  Martin. 

I  have  not  omitted  any  one  from  this  long  list. 
It  forms  a  remarkable  medley  of  poets,  some 
already  famous,  well  on  in  years,  survivors  of  the 
romantic  period,  such  as  Th^ophile  Gautier,  the 
two  Deschamps  and  Auguste  Vacquerie,  others 
younger,  but  also  possessed  of  fame,  almost  of 
glory,  such  as  Theodore  de  Banville,  Charles 
Baudelaire,  Arsene  Houssaye,  Auguste  de  Chatillon 
and  Philoxene  Boyer,  and  lastly,  the  new  genera- 
tion of  real  Parnassians,  of  whom  only  three  or 


158  PAUL  VERLAINE 

four,  such  as  Catulle  Mendes,  Ricard,  Verlaine, 
and  Coppe*e,  had  as  yet  published  volumes  of 
verse. 

The  Parnasse  made  some  noise  in  the  literary 
world,  owing  chiefly  to  the  trumpeting  of  the 
terrible  Barbey  d'Aurevilly.  That  impetuous  critic 
published  in  the  Nain  Jaune  of  November  1866 
a  series  of  portraits,  or  rather  caricatures,  evidently 
malicious  in  intent,  but  very  clever  and  amusing, 
under  the  title :  Les  Trente-sept  mddaillonnets  du 
Parnasse  Contemporain  (the  thirty-seven  medallion- 
ists  of  the  Contemporary  Parnassus),  in  which  we 
were  presented  to  the  public  in  more  or  less 
ridiculous  fashion.  Barbey  struck  at  us  with  his 
most  crushing  adjectives,  and  with  his  club-pen 
ground  us  in  pieces. 

I  will  give  two  or  three  of  the  me'daillonnets, 
as  they  are  essential  to  a  complete  picture  of  the 
Parnasse  of  1866. 

To  begin  with  the  greatest  and  also  the  first, 
the  Me'daillonnet  of  The'ophile  Gautier.  The  poet 
of  Emaux  et  Came'es  opened  the  series  of  authors 
invited  to  take  part  in  the  Parnasse  Contemporain, 
and  headed  the  procession  of  poets,  young  and  old, 
unpublished  and  celebrated,  whose  authoritative  and 
dogmatic  creed  was  displayed  before  the  eyes  of  a 
rather  indifferent  public  in  the  shop  in  the  Passage 
Choiseul,  a  branch  of  the  Helicon,  annexe  of  other 
holy  places,  and  cradle  of  the  sons  of  Apollo. 

Jules  Barbey  d'Aurevilly,  the  violent  critic, 
the  seldom  amiable,  but  never  insipid  nor  common- 
place eulogist,  the  piler-up  of  truculent  epithets,  the 
exhauster  of  colossal  blame,  the  paradoxical  and 
terse  appraiser,  whose  very  numerous  articles  on 


THE   CONTEMPORARY  PARNASSUS       159 

philosophers,  religious  writers,  poets,  historians,  and 
blue-stockings,  bristled  with  prejudices,  heresies, 
unconventionalities,  and  brutalities,  but  also  con- 
tained original  points  of  view,  surprising  deductions, 
just  appreciations  and  judgments,  which  time  might 
mellow,  only  to  make  the  more  lasting,  and  which 
can  be  read  with  a  few  mental  reservations,  with 
the  articles  of  Pere  Duchesne  and  Hubert.  He  had 
already  published  in  the  Nain  Jaune  an  article  on 
the  Parnasse  Contemporain  and  the  Parnassians 
as  a  whole. 

This  article  created  some  sensation  among  the 
poets,  and  Louis-Xavier  de  Ricard  thought  it  right 
to  enter  a  protest.  The  Nain  Jaune  at  first  refused 
to  insert  his  letter  as  wanting  in  interest,  and  con- 
stituting an  advertisement  of  the  series,  but  Barbey 
d'Aurevilly  prevailed  on  the  manager,  Gregory 
Genesco,  to  allow  it  to  be  included,  and  it  appeared 
accompanied  by  the  contemptuous  comments  of 
Barbey. 

"This  letter,"  he  said,  "is  not  a  reply  to  our 
first  article  on  the  Parnasse  Contemporain,  in  which 
we  expressed  our  opinion  supported  by  reasons, 
whether  good  or  bad,  those  competent  can  judge. 
No !  it  is  simply  a  little  raconto  istorico  that  might 
have  been  used  as  a  preface,  but  which  it  has 
been  insisted  should  be  inserted  as  a  reply.  It 
is  the  history  of  the  kitchen  of  the  Parnasse  Con- 
temporain, wherein  it  appears  M.  de  Ricard  holds 
the  handle  of  the  pan ;  and,  more  especially,  of 
the  provisions  that  are  not  prepared  there.  How 
can  the  details  of  this  kitchen  interest  the  public 
and  us?  .  .  .  We  have  found  the  thing  served 
up  to  us  detestable.  Is  that  a  reason  why  those 
who  concocted  it  should  be  more  annoyed  than 
those  who  swallowed  it  ? 


160  PAUL  VERLAINE 

"  But  poets  are  always  the  same  —  Genus 
irritabile  vatum.  Eternal  comedians  ! 

"  '  I  maintain  that  my  verses  are  very  good.' 
"  '  You  have  your  reasons  for  finding  them  so,' 
etc.  But  we  had  counted  upon  this.  Prose-writers 
judged  as  harshly  as  the  poets  of  the  Parnasse 
Contemporain  would  not  have  turned  a  hair,  but 
the  vanity  of  poets  is  only  equalled  by  the  vanity 
of  vain  women." 

After  some  reflections  on  a  piece  of  verse  by 
Amede'e  Pommier,  which  the  Parnasse  had  not 
inserted,  and  which  Barbey  d'Aurevilly  considered 
good  and  worthy  to  figure  in  the  volume,  the 
journal  gave  the  letter  of  the  founder  of  the 
Parnasse.  It  bore  the  date  of  3Oth  October  1866. 

M.  L.-X.  de  Ricard  expressed  himself  thus  : 

"  Before  entering  upon  the  subject  of  this  letter 
it  is  fitting  that  I  should  advise  you  of  my  motive  in 
writing.  As  the  founder,  with  M.  Mendes,  of  the 
Parnasse  Contemporain,  I  think  I  have  the  right  to 
correct  certain  inexact  statements  in  the  article 
which  M.  Barbey  d'Aurevilly  has  published  on  the 
series.  I  bring  no  complaint  against  the  brutalities 
of  the  critic. 

"  These  are  the  facts  :  he  has  reproached  us  with 
having  forgotten  the  contemporaries  without  whom, 
to  a  certain  extent,  we  should  not  have  existed, 
viz.,  Victor  Hugo,  Lamartine,  Musset,  de  Vigny, 
Auguste  Barbier,  Sainte  -  Beuve,  and  Amedee 
Pommier. 

"Now  I  answer  that,  with  regard  to  Victor 
Hugo,  the  publisher,  Lemerre,  possesses  a  letter 
from  the  great  poet  in  which  he  says  that  in  con- 
sequence of  his  contract  with  his  publisher,  it  is 
difficult  for  him  to  publish  verses  in  the  Parnasse 


THE   CONTEMPORARY  PARNASSUS       161 


Contemporain  \  however,  he  will  endeavour  to 
furnish  some  next  year. 

"  It  is  true  we  have  asked  nothing  from  M.  de 
Lamartine,  who,  according  to  M.  Barbey  d'Aurevilly, 
has  the  proud  honour  of  no  longer  being  popular 
with  us.  It  is  also  true  that  we  have  asked  nothing 
from  Alfred  de  Vigny  nor  Alfred  de  Musset,  for 
the  reason  that  they  are  no  longer  alive,  and  the 
Parnasse  Contemporain  is  not  a  selection  from  the 
works  of  the  poets  of  the  century,  but  merely,  as 
the  sub-title  indicates,  a  collection  of  new  verse. 

"To  continue,  M.  Antony  Deschamps  has  been 
good  enough  to  give  M.  de  Heredia  and  us  an  intro- 
duction to  M.  Auguste  Barbier,  who  informed  us 
quite  recently  that  he  had  nothing  in  his  portfolio. 

"  Finally,  M.  Sainte-Beuve  replied  to  a  request 
by  a  very  kind  letter,  in  which  he  said  he  had 
searched  among  his  papers  in  vain  for  unpublished 
verse. 

"These  are  the  facts  I  oppose  to  the  state- 
ments of  M.  Barbey  d'Aurevilly." 


M.  de  Ricard  afterwards  gave  the  reasons  which 
had  caused  him  to  refuse  the  verses  sent  in  by 
M.  Ame"dee  Pommier. 

The  objection,  or  rather  the  criticism  of  Barbey 
d'Aurevilly,  had  apparently  some  grounds,  and  it 
might  be  asked  why  certain  poets  were  admitted 
to  the  Parnasse  and  others  with  the  same  claims 
excluded.  It  seemed  almost  as  if  the  choice  were 
limited  by  the  exclusiveness  of  a  school,  a  sort 
of  coterie.  If,  indeed,  only  the  work  of  young 
poets,  such  as  L.-Xavier  de  Ricard,  or  beginners 
who  had  read  their  first  attempts  in  the  salons  of 
Mme.  de  Ricard  or  Nina  de  Callias,  or  at 
Catulle  Mendes,  Rue  de  Douai,  where  green  tea 

L 


162  PAUL  VERLAINE 

was  drunk,  handed  round  by  a  vicious  young  urchin, 
known  as  Covielle,  to  the  strains  of  Wagner,  or  the 
recitation  of  Hindoo  poems,  had  been  accepted  in 
the  Parnasse,  surprise  might  have  been  felt  at  find- 
ing beside  the  names  of  Mendes,  Coppe'e,  Verlaine, 
Le"on  Dierx,  and  M£rat,  authors  as  yet  almost 
unpublished,  the  famous,  even  illustrious  names 
of  Baudelaire,  Emile,  and  Antony  Deschamps, 
Arsene  Houssaye,  Auguste  de  Chatillon,  and 
Auguste  Vacquerie,  and,  above  all,  the  magisterial 
presence  of  Th^ophile  Gautier,  then  in  the  zenith 
of  his  fame.  His  collaboration  in  the  juvenile, 
rather  rash  and  possibly  unsuccessful  enterprise 
of  the  Parnassians  threw  into  greater  relief  the 
absence  of  Victor  Hugo. 

Ricard's  letter,  therefore,  meant  more  than  an 
angry  poet's  irritable  repartee  to  an  intolerant 
critic.  It  explained  the  absence  of  Victor  Hugo 
and  the  non  -  participation  of  certain  poets,  such 
as  Auguste  Barbier  and  Sainte  -  Beuve.  More- 
over, these  masters  figured,  as  their  letters  gave 
warning,  in  two  interesting  pieces  in  the  second 
volume  of  the  Parnasse  Contemporain  in  1869. 
One  great  contemporary  poet  alone  does  not 
appear  to  have  been  solicited,  Lamartine,  and  this 
was  an  injustice  and  an  error.  Ricard's  letter 
preserves  a  discreet  silence  on  this  point. 

Barbey  d'Aurevilly  replied  to  Ricard's  letter 
by  the  publication  of  his  Mtdaillonnets.  Here  is 
that  of  Th^ophile  Gautier  : 

"  Let  us  begin  by  turning  it  face  to  the  wall 
or  covering  it  up  like  the  portrait  of  that  Doge 
of  Venice  who  was  beheaded  for  treason,  for,  as 
I  have  already  said,  M.  Th^ophile  Gautier  ought 


THE    CONTEMPORARY  PARNASSUS        163 

not  to  be  here ;  he  is  out  of  place,  out  of  pro- 
portion, among  these  Mddaillonnets.  If  he  took 
proper  pride  in  his  talent,  his  record,  and  his  age, 
he  would  not  be  seen  at  the  head  of  this  volume 
of  the  Parnasse,  but  easy-going,  indolent  king 
that  he  is,  seeking,  perhaps,  for  popularity  with 
these  young  men  who  call  him  Master,  he  has 
passively  allowed  himself  to  be  set  on  the  summit 
of  this  Parnasse  Contemporain  which  they  wished 
to  adorn  with  his  name. 

"  These  poetic  bastards,  having  need  of  a  father, 
have  sought  for  one  in  M.  The'ophile  Gautier, 
although,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  it  is  not  he,  but 
M.  Theodore  de  Banville,  or,  best  of  all,  M.  Leconte 
de  Lisle,  who,  much  stronger  than  M.  Banville,  and 
whom  I  regard  as  in  other  respects  vigorous,  should 
lead  this  troop  of  imitators." 

After  the  Mddaillonnet  of  Theophile  Gautier 
followed  that  of  Theodore  de  Banville : 

"The  poetry  of  M.  Theodore  de  Banville  is,  in 
fact,  nothing  more  than  a  vague  decoction,  in  an 
empty  Bohemian  glass,  of  the  poetry  of  M.  Victor 
Hugo  and  of  Andre"  Che"nier ;  not  M.  Victor  Hugo 
the  great  '  genuine,'  but  Hugo  at  work,  alas !  on 
mythology  and  Renaissance  archaism,  for  he  has 
such  sad  days.  Imitation  is  so  much  in  the  air  of 
this  age  without  ideas  or  heart,  that  it  shoots  up 
like  an  ill  weed  even  in  the  very  face  of  genius. 
As  a  Greek  weeping  over  a  dead  Venus,  whom  he 
calls  'Aphrodite'  with  an  accent  grave  over  the 
e  for  the  whole  of  his  invention,  M.  de  Banville, 
who  has  derived  from  Andre"  Che"nier  his  method 
of  finishing  a  clause  in  the  following  line  of  his 
verse,  abusing  it  to  contortion  and  distortion,  is 
more  insupportable  to  me  than  a  superb  hollow 
model,  His  flute  has  more  than  seven  holes,  or, 


164  PAUL  VERLAINE 

rather,  it  has  only  one,  in  which  the  instrument 
itself  disappears.  He  has  been  described  truthfully, 
if  unkindly,  in  the  words  :  '  He  is  only  a  pitcher 
which  believes  itself  a  jug.'" 

Next  comes  the  portrait,  rather  highly  coloured, 
of  the  poet  who  then  exercised  true  supremacy  among 
the  Parnassians. 

"  M.  Leconte  de  Lisle  is  not  content  to  hang 
on  to  and  everlastingly  balance  himself,  like  Sarah 
la  Baigneuse,  between  two  imitations.  He  has 
thirty-six  for  trapezes.  He  is  energetic  and  likes 
variety.  He  too  imitates  M.  Hugo — M.  Hugo, 
the  fate,  the  anank'e,  of  all  of  them! — but  bast! 
he  imitates  many  others  as  well.  Who  would 
believe  it?  He  goes  to  the  length  of  imitating 
Ossian ;  he  puts  a  false  beard  on  his  chin.  He  is 
Scandinavian,  Barbarian,  Greek,  Persian — more 
especially  Persian.  He  would  astonish  Montes- 
quieu! In  short,  he  is  anything  rather  than  a 
Frenchman  and  poet  of  the  nineteenth  century,  a 
man  who  simply  occupies  his  own  place  in  the  scale 
of  humanity.  M.  Leconte  de  Lisle  has  chosen  to 
excel  in  systematic  imitation. 

"It  is  a  pity.  He  might,  perhaps,  have  had 
originality.  Let  us  tell  him  the  truth  in  the 
symbolical  language  he  adores.  M.  Leconte  de 
Lisle  is  the  veritable  Hanouman  of  this  Parnasse 
Contemporain.  Hanouman,  as  he  knows,  is  the 
monkey  god  of  Indian  mythology,  the  son  of 
Pavana,  the  God  of  Winds  (and  hollow  poets ! ), 
who  is  represented  with  a  long  tail,  followed  by  a 
troop  of  monkeys,  and  holding  a  lyre  or  a  fan.  .  .  . 
A  fan !  Not  always  on  account  of  the  warmth  of  his 


verses." 


This  picturesque  and  amusing  opinion,   full  of 


THE   CONTEMPORARY  PARNASSUS        165 

rosserie  (hard  hits),  as  we  say  nowadays,  was  also 
full  of  injustice.  Leconte  de  Lisle  was,  as  a  matter 
of  fact,  the  soul  of  the  Parnasse  Contemporain, 
and,  far  more  than  Victor  Hugo,  a  divinity  whom 
they  worshipped  and  venerated  at  a  distance,  the 
pontiff  in  presence  surrounded  in  permanent  fashion 
by  the  Levites  of  the  new  cult  of  form  and  beauty. 

Barbey  d'Aurevilly  reproached  Leconte  de  Lisle 
with  not  being  a  poet  of  the  nineteenth  century,  a 
contemporary.  There  was  some  truth  in  the  obser- 
vation. Poets,  according  to  the  idea  of  Leconte  de 
Lisle  and  all  those  who  took  part  in  the  poetic 
revival  of  1866,  known  as  the  Mouvement 
Parnassien,  ought  to  live  or  pretend  to  live  out- 
side their  own  time.  Their  doctrine  was  not  so 
much  that  of  impassibility  as  indifference,  isolation  ; 
the  poet,  floating  above  all  that  is  actual,  which  he 
regards  as  vulgar  and  troublesome,  ought  to  make 
no  practical  mark  on  his  century.  What  he  says, 
thinks,  and  desires  must  be  apart  from  the  con- 
tingencies which  agitate,  subdue,  or  excite  the 
society  amid  which  he  lives ;  he  must  appear  to 
have  fallen  from  the  moon,  or  to  have  escaped 

kfrom  a  place  reserved  for  genius. 
There  was  at  this  period,  and  we,  together  with 
the  Decadents,  Symbolists,  and  Naturalists,  saw  the 
development  commence  at  close  quarters,  a  double 
movement  of  separation  :  the  poets  took  one  road, 
the  public  another,  with  contempt  on  both  sides. 
They  mutually  turned  their  backs,  affecting  not 
only  remoteness  but  ignorance  of  the  other's 
existence.  Thus  the  public  became  more  and 
more  estranged  from  the  poetical  movement,  and 
the  poets  appeared  to  have  no  place,  interest,  nor 


166  PAUL  VERLAINE 

utility  in  modern  society.  At  most,  they  were 
admitted  in  dramatic  form  or  at  literary  matine'es, 
allowed  to  furnish  interludes  which  were  listened 
to  abstractedly,  and  always  less  appreciated  than 
prose  monologues  and  songs.  The  chatnoiresque, 
imitative,  ironical,  poet  band  were  only  able  to  find  a 
public  in  a  few  newspapers  and  wine-shops  qualified 
as  artistic.  Fashion  always  held  aloof  from  these 
acrobats  of  rhyme,  fascinating  as  some  of  them 
were. 

Leconte  de  Lisle,  who  witnessed  the  rupture  and 
had  even  contributed  to  its  birth  and  growth,  secretly 
chafed  at  the  isolation  set  up  and  the  indifference 
displayed.  Although  surrounded  with  discreet 
homage,  respectfully  saluted  by  the  literary  dlite 
and  almost  immediately  invested  with  the  supreme 
honours  reserved  for  recognised,  licensed,  official, 
decorated,  and  academic  literary  men,  he  inwardly 
yearned  after  the  popularity  for  which  he  had 
never  sought,  certainly,  but  which  he  had  desired 
to  receive.  He  wanted  to  experience  the  satis- 
faction of  repulsing  the  homage  that  the  public 
had  never  thought  of  offering  him,  and  of  shutting 
himself  in  his  Ivory  Tower,  or  rather  his  pagoda, 
away  from  an  idolatrous  crowd  who  did  not  dream 
of  prostrating  themselves  on  its  steps. 

Leconte  de  Lisle  retained  a  secret  rancour  from 
early  attempts  on  behalf  of  the  people.  Arriving 
from  the  Isles,  full  of  political  enthusiasm  and  con- 
sumed by  a  fever  of  democracy,  already  chilled  in 
the  first  battles  of  1848,  afterwards  carefully  sup- 
pressed, the  young  Creole  of  the  Reunion  threw 
himself  into  the  Republican  struggle,  he  the  future 
Olympian  King  of  the  Impassibles,  the  calm,  cold 


THE   CONTEMPORARY  PARNASSUS 

spectator,  dignified  and  superb  as  a  Buddha  on  his 
throne,  in  his  artist's  arm-chair.  He  brought  to  it 
the  fire  of  his  Southern  nature  ;  he  was  a  club  orator, 
an  agitator  of  new  creeds,  a  partisan  of  the  people, 
an  admirer  of  the  masses.  He  prepared,  in  con- 
junction with  other  young  democratic  Creoles,  such 
as  Melvil  Bloncourt,  plans  of  reform  ;  he  joined 
revolutionary  societies  ;  he  aspired  to  the  glory  of 
representing  some  of  the  simple,  unlettered,  and 
ignorant  to  whom  the  books  he  had  in  mind  and 
his  future  songs  could  never  be  anything  but 
indecipherable  texts,  incomprehensible  sounds,  in 
an  unknown  tongue. 

All  his  life,  like  Renan,  he  retained  in  his  heart 
the  bitterness  of  having  been  disdained  by  universal 
suffrage,  which  he  in  his  turn  despised.  It  had 
remained  in  his  soul  like  a  persistent  aroma  of 
this  political  efflorescence.  From  this  resulted  the 
ironic  curl  of  his  lip,  the  moroseness  of  his  manner, 
the  mordant  sallies  which  escaped  him,  the  cruel 
fixity  of  his  regard  under  his  monocle,  which 
accentuated  the  aristocratic  carriage  of  his  lordly 
head. 

In  spite  of  the  calculated  frigidity  which  he 
erected  like  a  barrier  around  him,  we  loved  and 
respected  him  in  our  youth  in  the  early  morning 
of  the  Parnasse.  He  shone  upon  us  with  his 
growing  glory,  which  to  us  was  already  at  its 
zenith,  in  the  obscure  bookshop  of  Lemerre. 
With  what  indignation  we  might  be  heard  crying 
to  the  passers-by :  "  But  read  Hypathie,  LAgonie 
dun  Saint,  La  Mort  de  Tiphaine,  Midi  roi  des  tits, 
Le  Manchy,  Le  Corbeau,  read  and  admire,  you  pack 
of  imbeciles."  No  one  listened  to  us  ;  Leconte  de 


168  PAUL  VERLAINE 

Lisle  remained  utterly  unknown.  Night  brooded 
over  his  books,  silence  around  his  name.  Unjust 
as  was  Barbey  d'Aurevilly's  diatribe,  it  had  its 
advantage.  The  Mtdaillonnet  already  quoted  at 
least  served  to  make  the  name  of  the  poet  sound 
in  the  ears  of  the  great  public,  those  who  read 
newspapers  and  not  volumes  of  verse.  Some  time 
afterwards  the  Figaro  published  one  of  the  finest  of 
his  unprinted  poems,  Le  Cczur  de  Hialmar.  Thus 
were  the  foundations  of  his  celebrity  laid  down, 
and  dawning  glory  penetrated  the  shadows  of 
indifference. 

Leconte  de  Lisle  had  a  considerable  influence 
upon  the  poetical  generation  of  1866.  Sully- 
Prudhomme,  Coppe"e,  Verlaine,  Jose"  -  Maria  de 
Heredia,  Leon  Dierx,  and  Armand  Silvestre  all 
proceeded  from  him.  His  gatherings  on  the 
Boulevard  des  Invalides  were  largely  attended. 
He  was  listened  to  as  a  professor  of  the  Beautiful. 
His  faultless  style,  his  magisterial  objectivity,  his 
intense  colouring,  his  magnificent  imagination,  and 
his  marvellous  reconstruction  of  the  heroes  of  the 
nebulous  ages  renovated  poetry.  He  replaced  the 
Christolatry  of  Lamartine  and  the  chivalrous,  feudal 
verse  of  Victor  Hugo,  with  evocations  of  far-off 
lands,  interpretations  of  mysterious  religions,  para- 
phrases of  barbarian  cosmogonies.  Melancholy 
snow-covered  landscapes  of  the  north  visions  of  the 
Scandinavian  fiords  and  Celtic  forests  alternated 
with  his  pictures  of  tropical  vegetation  lying  beneath 
the  noonday  sun.  He  conjured  up  vast  prairies, 
solitary  islands,  the  rocks  of  the  Skalds  and  Runic 
circles.  Thus  he  set  up  permanent  monuments  of 
poetry,  solid  blocks  of  robust  art,  which  will  remain 


THE   CONTEMPORARY  PARNASSUS        169 

immutable  as  long  as  the  French  language  endures ; 
an  intellectual  cataclysm  alone  could  overturn  his 
mighty  edifices. 

He  had  no  need,  the  great  artist,  to  seek  new 
words,  special  methods,  extravagant  rhymes,  bizarre 
ellipses  in  order  to  describe  the  world  within  him, 
to  create  the  plastic  forms  he  knew  so  admir- 
ably how  to  cast  in  indestructible  poetic  moulds ; 
intelligible  words  sufficed  for  him.  His  dictionary 
was  every  man's,  and  his  grammar  contained  nothing 
unusual ;  he  respected  his  own  tongue,  and  pre- 
served the  dignity  of  metre.  Never  for  a  moment 
did  this  chief  of  the  Parnassians  uphold  nor  en- 
courage the  Symbolists  and  Decadents.  Strength, 
and  simplicity  were  his  attributes.  Like  the  bird 
of  the  Andes,  of  which  he  has  so  magnificently 
sung,  he  floated  above  the  pettiness  of  the  world, 
and  when  death  struck  him  with  its  immutable 
rigidity,  he  remained  poised  in  immortality,  asleep 
in  the  clear  cold  atmosphere  of  glory,  with  outspread 
wings.  Barbey  d'Aurevilly  was  unfair  and  cruel 
to  this  poet.  The  outrageous  severity  he  evinced 
in  the  Mtdaillonnet  of  Leconte  de  Lisle  detracts 
from  the  vigour  and  authority  of  his  other  portrait 
caricatures.  I  have  already  quoted  a  part  of 
Verlaine's  Mtdaillonnet ;  it  concludes  with  the 
words  : 

"He  has  said  somewhere,  speaking  of  I  know 
not  whom,  a  fact  without  importance : — 

"V,  ,  It  has 

The  inflection  of  dear  voices  which  are  dead.' 

When   we   listen  to  M.    Paul   Verlaine,    we   could 
wish  that  his  voice  had  a  similar  inflection." 


170  PAUL  VERLAINE 

This  remark  may  be  witty,  but  it  is  inadequate 
from  the  point  of  view  of  criticism. 

I  will  conclude  these  reminiscences  of  the 
Me'daillonnets,  now  forgotten,  valueless,  and  interest- 
ing merely  in  retrospect,  by  quoting,  if  I  may,  my 
own.  I  have  given  sufficient  proof  of  my  admiration 
for  Barbey  d'Aurevilly,  both  in  these  papers  and  else- 
where, to  make  it  clear  that  he  did  not  even  spare 
those  who,  like  Verlaine  and  myself,  had  a  perhaps 
exaggerated  deference  for  him.  Although  I  had 
the  honour  of  being  his  friend,  and  was  his  colleague 
on  the  Nain  Jaune,  and  had  on  several  occasions 
performed  his  duties  as  dramatic  critic  to  that 
paper,  leaving  to  him,  of  course,  his  emoluments 
while  he  reported  himself  at  Valognes-en-Cotentin, 
where  he  wrote  the  fine  novel,  Chevalier  Destouches, 
it  will  be  seen  that  he  was  no  more  indulgent 
to  me  than  to  my  friends  and  our  masters. 

This  is  my  Me'daillonnet : 

"  Exaggerated  echo  of  Andre"  Che*nier,  echo  of 
M.  Hugo  Renaissance,  an  echo  of  an  echo,  since 
the  latter  echoes  M.  Theodore  de  Banville,  M. 
Edmond  Lepelletier,  has  given  two  pieces  to  the 
Parnasse  Contemporain.  The  second,  Le  L^the1, 
unhappily  does  not  make  us  forget  the  first,  which 
is  called  L? Attelage,  a  Grecian  mythological  poem. 
The  author  has  essayed  to  sound  the  old  hunting- 
horn  of  Grecian  mythology  which  hangs  at  the 
doors  of  all  second-hand  dealers,  a  poetical  relic 
of  carnival  time.  He  sings  Cldobis  et  Biton,  a 
subject  worthy  of  the  resurrecting  hand  of  the 
painter  of  Lycus,  or  of  Homer,  but  which  is  here 
nothing  more  than  an  old  engraving  that  would 
prevent  a  room  in  an  hotel  from  being  let." 

All  the  Parnassians  were  dealt  with  in  similar 


THE   CONTEMPORARY  PARNASSUS        171 

fashion  by  Barbey  d'Aurevilly,  and  his  amusing, 
violent  criticisms  helped  to  draw  attention  to  them, 
to  make  known  the  name  they  had  adopted,  and 
to  prepare  the  ear  of  the  public  to  listen  to  their 
future  works.  Barbey  d'Aurevilly  afterwards 
explained  in  a  final  article  in  the  Najin  Jaune  the 
intention  of  the  Mddaillonnets. 

"What  I  wished  to  prove  beyond  question," 
he  said,  "is  the  exclusively  imitative  character  of 
a  volume  with  extravagant  pretensions,  and  I  think 
I  have  done  this  in  my  examination,  poem  by  poem, 
and  word  by  word,  of  the  work  of  the  thirty-seven 
poets  of  this  pleasant  Parnasse.  Owing  to  the 
impossibility  of  quoting  all  the  verses  in  a  book, 
which  would  have  to  be  entirely  reproduced  in  order 
to  convince  the  reader  of  the  inanity  of  its  contents, 
and  the  immense  weariness  to  which  it  gives  rise, 
I  have  pointed  out  the  source  of  each  poem  in  this 
unhappy  collection,  distinguished  by  no  hint  of 
originality,  and  coupled  with  each  of  these  servile 
Parnassians  the  name  of  the  man  whom  he  has 
imitated." 

He  concludes  by  the  following  violent 
apostrophe : 

"The  noble  objection  has  been  raised,  while 
I  have  been  writing  the  Mddaillonnets  of  these 
Parnassians,  who  are  all  alike,  that  I  was  wrong 
*  at  a  time  when  literature  is  justly  accused  of  being 
at  a  low  ebb,  to  attack  unreservedly  the  poets  who 
have  given  expression  to  the  most  elevated  literature 
obtainable.'  This  would  certainly  be  true  if  the 
poetry  of  the  Parnasse  Contemporain  were  defective 
only  in  form,  but  it  is  radically  bad  right  down  to 
its  very  inspiration,  and  therefore  it  is  necessary  to 


172  PAUL  VERLAINE 

be  implacable !  The  poetry  of  the  Parnassians  has 
neither  thought  nor  feeling.  It  is  a  mere  vile 
exercise  of  rhyme,  cadence,  and  incomplete  lines. 
It  sings  neither  of  God,  Fatherland,  nor  self- 
sacrificing  love,  nor  any  of  the  virtues  which  find 
an  abiding  place  in  our  poor  hearts.  Only  the 
more  guilty,  degraded  and  worthy  of  the  whip 
and  lash  of  the  critic  in  that  it  believes  simply  in 
matter  and  material  attachments.  Classed  among 
sinners  are  those  who  commit  sacrilege  by 
prostituting  to  unworthy  or  puerile  uses  the  con- 
secrated vessels  of  their  altar." 

It  is  severe,  unjust,  and  inexact,  but  it  is  capitally 
put  all  the  same.  In  1869  the  second  volume  of  the 
Parnasse  Contemporain  was  issued  under  the  special 
direction  of  Alphonse  Lemerre,  now  become  an 
important  publisher.  Leconte  de  Lisle  assisted  in 
the  arrangement  of  the  lyrical  encyclopedia.  Some 
of  the  poets  who,  for  various  reasons,  and  notably 
Sainte-Beuve  and  Auguste  Barbier,  as  has  already 
been  said,  were  not  included  among  the  authors  in 
the  first  volume,  were  invited  to  take  part  in  the 
second.  Among  these  new  names  were  those  of 
Mmes.  Nina  de  Callias,  Louisa  Siefert,  Blanchecotte, 
Louise  Collet,  and  Augusta  Penquer ;  and  MM. 
Henri  Rey,  Victor  de  Laprade,  Anatole  France, 
L£on  Cladel,  Alfred  des  Essarts,  Jose"phin  Soulary, 
Armand  Silvestre,  Laurent  Pichat,  Antonin  Vala- 
bregue,  Gabriel  Marc,  Andre*  Theuriet,  Jean  Aicard, 
Georges  Lafenestre,  Alexandre  Cosnard,  Gustave 
Pradelle,  Robinot-Bertrand,  Louis  Salles,  Charles 
Cros,  Eugene  Manuel,  Claudius  Popelin,  and 
Edouard  Grenier. 

In  spite  of  the  reinforcement  of  rather  minor 
poets,    such    as    Cosnard,    Louis    Salles,    Robinot- 


THE   CONTEMPORARY  PARNASSUS         173 


Bertrand,  Mmes.  Blanchecotte,  Penquer,  SieTert, 
and  the  poor  excitable  Nina  de  Callias,  whose 
contribution  Charles  Cros  had  certainly  put  into 
verse,  or  at  least  revised,  the  second  publication 
of  the  Parnasse  produced  no  sensation.  It  was  a 
venture  repeated,  and  possessing  no  special  attrac- 
tions. It  did  not  receive  the  honour  of  further 
Me'daillonnets,  nor  of  any  criticism  whatsoever  in 
the  Press ;  moreover,  the  Parnassians  began  to 
separate.  The  great  success  of  Coppee's  Passant, 
unexpected  but  certainly  merited,  although  a 
triumphal  dtbut  for  the  new  poetical  contingent, 
gave  rise  to  many  jealousies,  which  resulted  in 
personal  ruptures,  and  many  secessions  from  the 
school. 

Verlaine  and  I  were  always  Coppee's  friends, 
and  delighted  at  his  very  great  success,  but  many 
of  our  comrades  did  not  feel  the  same  sentiment. 
Dissimulating  their  petty  envy  under  protestations 
in  the  cause  of  Art,  they  asserted  that  the  Passant 
was  poetry  for  the  middle  classes,  and  that  Coppe"e 
was  not  sufficiently  Hindoo.  The  salons  in  which 
the  Parnassians  were  wont  to  meet  were  no  longer 
frequented  by  the  same  guests,  some  still  continued 
to  go  to  Leconte  de  Lisle's  and  Lemerre's,  but  that 
excellent  publisher's  bookshop,  became  alternately 
a  place  for  gossip  and  an  academic  salon,  and  many 
of  us  only  went  to  the  Passage  Choiseul  in  connec- 
tion with  publishing  business,  or  by  chance.  The 
war  of  1870  finally  dispersed  the  Parnassians. 

Yet  a  secret  camaraderie  continued  to  exist 
between  them,  and  later  on,  when  pursuing  the 
various  paths  of  literature,  art,  and  politics,  they 
still  felt  linked  together  by  the  powerful  chain  of 


174  PAUL   VERLAINE 

early  friendship  and  mutual  literary  struggles.  They 
had  been  brothers-in-arms,  and  when  they  met  in 
after  years,  they  recalled  with  pleasure  the  days 
when  fame  had  not  yet  come  to  them,  and  they 
had  believed  that  their  future  lay  within  the  cycle 
of  the  Parnasse,  and  the  bookshop  of  Lemerre, 
that  dispenser  of  printed  glory. 

Louis  -  Xavier  de  Ricard,  who  has  published 
in  Le  Temps  some  very  interesting  articles  on  the 
Parnasse  Contemporain,  which  he  was  better  able 
to  do  than  any  one  else,  said,  in  conclusion,  and 
this  will  be  the  final  judgment  on  the  Parnasse : — 

"  I  do  not  believe  that  the  Parnassians  were 
the  supreme  poets  Verlaine  imagined,  nor  that  all 
the  poetry  before,  and  even  more  especially  since, 
ought  to  be  decried ;  persuaded  as  I  am  that 
we  did  good,  salutary,  serious,  useful,  and  necessary 
work,  I  also  believe  that  the  Parnassian  movement 
is  now  superseded  by  the  younger  generation. 

"  The  Parnasse  was  not  a  school  nor  a  club,  and 
least  of  all  the  set  against  which  many  were  greatly, 
unadvisedly,  and  sometimes  insincerely  irritated. 
The  Parnasse  had  no  creed  nor  aesthetic  dogma, 
neither  had  it  any  official  theory,  by  which  I  mean  a 
collective  belief  regarding  the  method  of  composing 
poetry.  Although  accused  of  being  mere  rhymers, 
they  did  not  even  profess  the  same  opinion  as  to 
the  superiority  of  the  full  rhyme. 

"The  Parnassians  had  no  common  theory,  even 
a  superficial  one,  of  philosophy,  politics,  or  sociology. 
Some  of  us,  on  the  contrary — I  make  the  statement 
without  prejudice  —  professed  an  actual  contempt 
for  all  these  questions.  Look  at  the  survivors  ;  they 
are  scattered  among  all  the  professions.  Having 
thus  no  doctrine,  even  on  the  subject  of  aesthetics 
or  poetry  in  the  classical  sense  of  the  word,  what 


THE   CONTEMPORARY  PARNASSUS          175 

was  the  Parnassel  What  common  bond  united 
us  ?  An  idea,  no  more !  But  an  idea  so  great 
that  it  did  not  impede  nor  hinder  the  personal 
evolution  of  any  one  of  us. 

"  If  you  are  sceptical,  compare,  as  Verlaine  said, 
the  works  of  the  Parnassians,  one  with  the  other, 
and  observe  that  they  neither  resemble  those  of 
their  glorious  masters  nor  one  another's.  ..." 

In  1876  the  third  volume  of  the  Parnasse  Con- 
temporain  was  issued.  Paul  Verlaine  did  not  figure 
in  it.  By  that  time  he  was  known  as  the  author 
of  the  Romances  sans  Paroles  and  Sagesse,  but  an 
evil  reputation  surrounded  him,  and  very  few  of 
his  old  friends  dared  to  utter  his  name.  He  was 
forgotten  and  misunderstood  as  well  as  calumniated, 
dead  while  yet  he  lived. 


CHAPTER  VII 

MARRIAGE— LA  BONNE  CHANSON 
(1869-1871) 

THERE  was  only  one  actual  event  in  Verlaine's  life. 
He  passed  his  existence  outside  the  great,  and  even 
the  smaller  happenings  of  his  time.  A  Republican, 
he  took  no  part  in  any  of  the  conspiracies,  agitations, 
or  movements  so  frequent  during  the  last  years  of 
the  Empire ;  he  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  affair  of 
the  Cafe  de  la  Renaissance.  He,  who  certainly 
did  not  hold  cafes  in  abhorrence,  never  frequented 
the  Brasserie  Serpente,  the  Brasserie  Glaser,  nor 
the  Caf6  de  Madrid — places  where  the  youthful 
opponents  of  Imperial  rule  were  wont  to  meet  and 
men  were  liable  to  become  involved  in  violent 
squabbles,  in  cases  like  those  of  the  Treize,  to 
arbitrary  arrest,  fines,  police  surveillance,  and  even 
to  imprisonment  at  Mazas,  followed  by  a  trial  for 
conspiracy  and  high  treason  before  the  High  Court 
sitting  at  Blois.  He  circled  round,  without  being 
drawn  into  the  various  political  whirlpools.  A 
patriot,  he  made  war  from  afar,  almost  as  a 
spectator,  and  he  acted  sentry,  as  it  were,  in  an 
arm-chair.  Although  he  was  living  in  Paris  during 
the  terrible  siege  he  took  no  part  in  what  went  on 
in  public  places,  and  was  a  dumb  inactive  figure  in 

176 


MARRIAGE  177 


the  drama  of  the  Commune,  remaining  peaceably 
seated  on  his  leather  stool  at  the  Hotel-de-Ville. 
Except  for  the  Invectives  he  did  not  raise  his 
voice  in  any  of  the  bitter  literary  polemics  of  his 
time,  and  never  acted  in  a  duel.  Like  all  the  rest 
of  us  he  experienced  cruel  losses  in  his,  family — his 
father  first,  his  cousin  Elisa,  and,  heaviest  blow  of 
all,  his  excellent  mother,  but  these  were  only  the 
ordinary  trials  of  everyday  life. 

That  he  came  to  want  was  not  the  result  of  any 
unexpected  catastrophe,  but  of  careless  expenditure  ; 
and  that,  coupled  with  losses  of  capital  and  of  the 
emoluments  proceeding  from  regular  work,  rendered 
poverty  in  the  end  inevitable.  Day  by  day,  almost 
imperceptibly,  he  descended  the  ladder  of  distress. 
His  disastrous  agricultural  enterprises  at  Juniville 
and  Coulommes  deprived  him  of  a  large  portion 
of  his  private  income,  and  a  swindle  on  the  part  of 
the  Abbe"  Salard  did  away  with  the  remainder,  but 
this  was  not  the  reason  of  his  ultimate  ruin. 

One  fact  dominated  and  poisoned  his  destiny  ; 
this  was  his  marriage.  It  is  impossible  to  recon- 
struct the  life  of  a  man,  to  take  a  horoscope  after 
death,  and  it  is  futile  to  try  and  imagine  a  Verlaine 
always  a  bachelor,  a  Government  clerk  receiving 
his  salary  regularly,  living  in  unpretentious  comfort 
with  his  mother  up  to  the  end  of  her  life,  and  leading 
a  comparatively  regular  existence,  interrupted  only 
by  visits  to  the  cafes  and  an  occasional  amour, 
writing  leisurely  in  the  quietude  of  his  office  and 
the  solitude  of  his  bedroom,  and  under  the  inspira- 
tion of  absinthe,  poems  more  or  less  studied  and 
polished,  and  accepted  by  some  review  with  artistic 
pretensions — a  Verlaine  grown  wise,  staid,  correct, 

M 


178  PAUL  VERLAINE 

with  clothes  from  La  Belle  Jardiniere,  a  punctual 
tax  -  payer,   laureate   of    the  Academic    Franchise, 
having  led  the  life  of  a  sinecurist,  monotonous  but 
happy  and  pleasant,  like  some  of  the  comrades  of 
his   youth  who  finished  their   careers   in   an   easy 
official  arm-chair,  such  as  Albert  Me"rat,  or,  better 
still,  at  the  Institute,  like  Jose'-Maria  de  Heredia. 
Perhaps  if  his  fate  had  been  thus  encompassed 
and  regulated,  if  the  river  of  his  life  had  flowed 
along  steadily  and  tranquilly  between  the  smooth 
banks  of  an  official  career,  if  he  had  never  abandoned 
his  domestic  habits,  Verlaine  might  have  continued 
to  produce  good  verse  in  the  objective  and  descrip- 
tive style  of  Leconte  de  Lisle,   but  he  would  not 
have    been    the    poet,    strange    and    impressionist, 
every  fibre  of  whose  being  thrilled  to  the  touch  of 
that   inner   life  which   sent   through   his   nerves   a 
quiver  of  unexpressed  art,  to  be  interpreted  by  him 
into  something  quite  new,  something  undreamed  of 
before.     Perhaps  those  things  which  went  to  make 
up  his  personality,  his  originality,  that  assured  him 
a  place  apart  in  the  wondrous  assemblage  of  poets, 
and  even  the  glory  which  illumines  his  grave,  arose 
one  and   all    from    this   same   marriage.     Verlaine 
unwed  might  have  been  an  esteemed  and  estimable 
poet  and  nothing  more.     No  matter  who  his  wife 
was,  marriage  for  him  could  not  have  been  happy 
nor  possible,  although  he  complained  in  that  famous 
poem  in  the  Romances  sans  Paroles  : 

"  You  have  not  always  been  patient.  .  .  ." 

The  evil  destiny  of  the  poet,  therefore,  was  not 
due  to  her  who  was  his  choice,  but  rather  to  the 
conjugal  state  itself,  for  which  he  was  ill-suited,  with 


I 


MARRIAGE  179 

his  excitable  temperament,  his  passionate  exuber- 
ance, and  the  deplorable  facility  with  which  he 
allowed  himself  to  drift  into  evil  ways. 

The  ordinary  reasons  which  impel  men  to  seek 
marriage  were  entirely  absent  from  Verlaine's 
sudden  decision.  Doubtless  he  had  Jove  for  the 
young  girl,  the  sight  of  whom  moved  him  so  pro- 
foundly;  he  has  himself  narrated  how  he  was 
transfixed  by  the  traditional  arrow,  but  his  deter- 
mining sentiment  was  a  feeling  of  humility  and 
personal  inferiority.  His  abrupt  extravagant  resolu- 
tion, resembling  one  made  under  the  influence  of 
intoxication,  to  demand  (and  of  her  half-brother,  a 
young  man  not  in  a  position  of  family  authority) 
the  hand  of  a  young  girl  seen  for  some  few  minutes 
only,  was  like  a  protestation  against  the  injustice 
of  chance  in  the  matter  of  his  physiognomy,  a 
defiance  of  the  fatality  of  his  physical  appearance. 

Verlaine,  it  must  be  remembered,  was  afflicted 
with  exceeding  hideousness.  In  later  life  his 
plain,  odd,  irregular  face,  bald  head,  and  flat  nose 
were  quite  passable,  illumined  as  they  were  by 
the  brilliance  of  intellect  and  surrounded  by  the 
aureole  of  talent.  One  had  grown  accustomed 
by  that  time  to  his  face,  like  a  faun's  when  he 
laughed,  his  sinister  aspect  when  grave.  His 
flattened  features,  prominent  teeth,  and  appear- 
ance generally  which  recalled  that  of  a  classical 
death's  -  head,  produced  an  impression  of  unique 
ugliness,  which,  under  certain  circumstances,  might 
interest  and  even  please.  But  in  his  youth  he 
was  grotesquely  ugly ;  he  resembled,  not  as  has 
been  stated  the  Mongolian  type,  but  the  monkey, 
and  his  baboon-like  originality  could  inspire  in  any 


180  PAUL  VERLAINE 

woman  he  met  only  feelings  of  repulsion,  repugnance, 
perhaps  fright  and  disgust.  If  I  emphasise  these 
physical  peculiarities,  it  is  because  criticism  and 
also  philosophy  and  history  attach  too  little  impor- 
tance to  the  sexual  life.  Historians,  psychologists, 
and  moralists  are  provokingly  contemptuous  of  the 
large  part  played  by  the  instinct  of  generation  in 
the  human  drama. 

The  poor  fellow  was  well  aware  of  the  repulsive 
effect  he  produced ;  he  used  to  joke  about  his 
gueusard  de  physique,  and  scribble  on  the  covers 
of  exercise  books,  in  the  margins  of  volumes, 
silhouettes,  sketches,  and  drawings  which  confirmed 
the  notion  that  he  was  lacking  in  physical  advan- 
tages. He  caricatured  himself  mercilessly. 

Moreover,  he  was  timid  and  awkward  in  the 
presence  of  women.  He  had  none  of  those  in- 
genuous flirtations  and  charming  intrigues  common 
to  the  twentieth  year,  and  which  often  contain  all 
the  poetry  of  those  who  do  not  compose  verse. 
The  letter  from  L*6cluse  in  September  1862  shows 
that  he  did  attach  interest  to  these  first  innocent 
encounters  with  the  fair  sex.  He  remembered  the 
quadrille  in  which  he  had  taken  part  with  the  head- 
master's daughter,  Mdlle.  Hiolle.  But  this  quadrille 
led  to  nothing.  No  attempt  was  made  to  retain 
him  after  the  dance  by  a  smile  or  promise  to  see 
him  again,  and  he  slipped  away,  sad,  disillusioned, 
trying  to  forget  the  little  person  who  showed  no 
desire  to  continue  his  acquaintance.  He  felt  him- 
self separated  from  women  by  an  abyss ;  a  recluse 
to  whom  love  held  out  no  possibilities.  I  do  not 
believe,  I  who  never  lost  sight  of  him  for  a  single 
day  during  the  eight  years  which  preceded  his 


MARRIAGE  181 


marriage,  that  Paul  had  the  smallest  love  affair,  or 
attempted  to  court  any  woman  whatsoever,  grisette, 
cocotte,  or  artist ;  had  he  done  so  he  would  certainly 
have  confided  in  me,  or  I  should  have  discovered  his 
secret.  Opportunities  were  not  lacking.  Young 
women  who  had  had  adventures,  and  girls  not 
wholly  honest  used  to  come  to  Mme.  de  Ricard's, 
and  at  the  gayer  house  of  Mme.  de  Callias  he  met 
many  amiable  young  persons,  easy  of  access.  He 
had,  moreover,  like  every  other  man,  the  oppor- 
tunities afforded  by  walks,  evening  parties,  theatres, 
concerts,  and  journeys,  of  finding  himself  in  the 
society  of  desirable  and  pleasing  creatures,  with 
whom  he  might  have  entered  into  relations  ending 
in  the  ordinary  way.  But  it  was  not  so. 

In  his  youth  he  never  had  a  mistress  to  whom 
he  clung  either  through  love  or  pure  sensuality — i.e.> 
a  woman,  married  or  unmarried,  recognised  as  his, 
if  not  exclusively,  at  least  by  preference,  tenderness, 
or  possibly  interest.  He  did  not  even  frequent 
women  easy  of  access  regularly,  intermittently,  or 
in  the  character  of  a  temporary  lover.  His  amorous 
adventures  were  of  more  than  ordinary  simplicity  ; 
he  only  addressed  himself  to  those  unfortunates 
who  sell  love  like  a  commodity — going  for  his  fill 
of  caresses  as  he  would  for  absinthe  to  the  nearest 
place  of  sale.  He  himself  has  narrated  elsewhere 
with  his  ingenuous  cynicism  how  he  lost  his  inno- 
cence in  a  shuttered  house  in  the  Rue  d'Orle"ans- 
Saint-Honore*. 

He  had  therefore  never  loved,  and  his  early 
poems  doubtless  owed  to  his  ignorance  of  passion, 
desire,  striving,  and  suffering,  an  ideality  and  an 
imperturbability  such  as  few  poets  before  him  could 


182  PAUL  VERLAINE 

boast,  and  of  which  marriage  was  soon  to  deprive 
him.     It   is   in    fact    very   unusual    for   a   poet   to 
attain  the  age  of  twenty-five  without  having  loved, 
and  sung  his  hopes,  dreams,  sensations,  jealousies, 
triumphs,  disappointments,  and  suspicions.    Verlaine 
knew  nothing  of  the  ecstasies,  desires,  joys,  and 
sorrows   of    first    love,    too    often    disastrous   and 
enduring  in  effect.     In   the   ardent   springtime  he 
had  not  experienced  the  wild  delight  which  succeeds 
discouragement,  or  that  terrible  moment  when  the 
beloved  has  escaped,  and  the  whole  world  seems 
tumbling  about   one's   ears.     He  was   ignorant  of 
the  alternations   of    happiness   and   sorrow   which 
make  up  love.     The  sensual  spasm  is  an  absolute 
illusion,  for  without   the   brain   being   struck  with 
certain  identities,  any  woman  would  satisfy  any  man. 
I  never  saw  the  youthful  Verlaine  give  his  arm 
to  one  of  the  opposite  sex.     He  never  joined  any 
of  those  delightful  excursions  into  the  country  with  a 
party  of  four,  six,  or  eight,  which  leave  such  happy 
recollections  in  the  mind.     I  would  often  row  on 
a  Sunday  to  Joinville-le-Pont,  but  he  would  never 
accompany  me,  not  that  he  objected  to  the  boating, 
the  country,  nor  the  light  refections  in  arbours,  but 
that  he  felt  alone,   uncompanioned,  and  dared  not 
hazard  a   chance   encounter   in   the  course  of  the 
outing.       He   never    took    part   in   our   frolicsome 
rambles  along  by  the  hedges,  chanting  the  choruses 
of  popular  songs,  and  gathering  violets  or  black- 
berries, according  to   the  season.     He  was   never 
one   at   our    gay   repasts    in    the    tea   gardens   of 
Montmartre,  the   Butte,   Montrouge,   or   Chatillon. 
Once,  indeed,  I  managed  to  inveigle  him  into  the 
company  of  a  set  of  young  people  who  held  their 


MARRIAGE  183 

meetings  at  the  balls  of  Montmartre,  the  Elyse'e, 
and  the  Chateau- Rouge ;  but  this  set  called  La 
Collective,  a  co-operative  society  for  refreshment 
and  amusement,  did  not  attract  him  ;  he  was  content 
to  watch  us  laughing,  dancing,  and  flirting.  In 
solitude  he  steadily  emptied  glass  after  glass  while 
we  engaged  in  romping  quadrilles  and  rapid  waltzes 
with  the  frivolous  habitue's  of  the  place,  or  sat 
beside  them  flushed  and  breathless  after  our  exer- 
tions. He  appeared  to  my  friends,  journalists 
and  Government  clerks,  a  rather  lugubrious  boon 
companion,  and  one  of  them,  Louis  Advenant,  the 
future  explorer,  added,  when  saying  good-bye  to 
him:  "There  is  not  much  go  about  you!  When 
Death  comes  for  me  I  shall  appreciate  your  society  !  " 

He  used  to  go  away  alone,  generally  under  the 
influence  of  drink,  to  the  low  haunts  in  which,  as 
he  has  himself  confessed  without  shame,  he  made 
his  first  essays  in  passion,  where  poor  girls,  spiders 
of  pleasure,  watched  behind  a  lamp  for  passers-by 
whom  they  could  lure  into  their  toils.  Verlaine 
never  wanted  any  one  to  accompany  him  on  these 
escapades.  He  very  seldom  mentioned  them  even 
to  me ;  they  were  always  the  same,  and  not  of  a 
character  in  which  he  could  possibly  take  pride. 
In  his  twentieth  year  love  therefore  only  existed 
for  him,  great  idealist  though  he  was,  in  the  most 
material  of  forms. 

But  one  day  chance  brought  him  into  the 
presence  of  a  very  young  girl,  little  more  than  a 
child,  Mdlle.  Mathilde  Maute  de  Fleurville,  at 
the  house  in  the  Rue  Nicolet,  Montmartre,  after- 
wards to  become  the  scene  of  his  domestic  tragedy. 

He   had   gone    to   see   the   composer,    Charles 


184  PAUL   VERLAINE 

de  Sivry,  who  lived  there  with  his  stepfather, 
M.  Maute"  de  Fleurville,  an  ex-notary  and  perfect 
type  of  citizen,  with  mutton-chop  whiskers  and  gold 
spectacles,  when  some  one  knocked  at  the  door  of 
the  room  in  which  Sivry  and  his  visitor  were  talk- 
ing. Oh  !  that  tap- tap,  gay  and  penetrating !  It  was 
to  resound  for  ever  in  the  heart  of  the  poet.  A 
young  girl  appeared  in  a  frilled  dress  of  grey  and 
green,  a  charming  brunette.  Verlaine  has  described 
her  most  delightfully  in  the  verses  which  begin  : 

"  En  robe  grise  et  verte,  avec  des  ruches." 

The  first  interview  was  simple  and  decisive. 
Curiosity  had  doubtless  impelled  the  young  girl 
towards  her  brother's  room.  She  put  her  dainty 
little  head  round  the  half-opened  door  and  made 
a  feint  of  withdrawing  it  with  confused  protesta- 
tions and  charming  grimaces. 

"  Stay,"  said  Charles,  "  Monsieur  is  a  poet.  .  .  . 
It   is   Verlaine.  .  .  .   Don't   you   know   him?.  .  ." 

In  fact  he  had  often  been  spoken  off  in  the  MauteV 
house.  I  have  already  mentioned  the  schemes  for 
operettas  which  were  then  engrossing  Verlaine. 
Charles  de  Sivry,  future  conductor  of  the  orchestra 
of  the  Chat-Noir,  was  desirous  of  obtaining  verse 
of  the  kind  suitable  to  set  to  music.  He  dreamed 
of  Petit  Faust  and  Belle  Hdlene.  Besides,  Sivry 
frequented  Nina's  soire'es,  and  naturally  he  had 
talked  of  the  coming  celebrities  he  met  at  that 
lively  house,  and  even  brought  home  with  him 
Verlaine's  works,  the  Poe'mes  Saturniens  and  the 
Fetes  galantes.  The  young  girl  may  have  dipped 
into  these  volumes  indiscreetly  ;  they  had  had  no 
special  interest  for  her. 

At   her   brother's    invitation,    therefore,    Mdlle. 


MARRIAGE  185 


Maute  remained  and  joined  in  the  conversation. 
She  told  Verlaine  she  liked  his  verses,  although 
they  were  a  little  strong  for  her,  and  the  poet 
was  touched  both  in  his  pride  as  author  and  in 
another  feeling  as  well. 

It  seemed  to  him  —  was  it  an  illusion?  very 
possibly  not — that  the  young  girl  regarded  him 
with  different  eyes  from  those  of  the  majority 
of  the  women  he  had  met;  he  saw  nothing 
of  the  irony,  disdain,  cruelty,  insolence,  fear, 
or  distress  which  had  filled  the  orbs  bent  on 
him  hitherto.  The  young  girl  did  not  seem  to 
have  any  fear  of  him.  Had  she  not  remarked  his 
ugliness  ?  Perhaps,  after  all,  he  did  not  appear 
so  repulsive  to  her  as  he  did  to  himself.  Did 
this  compassionate  child  regard  him  with  more 
indulgent  eyes  than  others  of  her  sex,  than  his 
friends,  than  himself?  Was  this  mere  chance?  .  .  . 

He  dared  not  follow  up  so  flattering  a  supposi- 
tion, but  a  warm  glow  pervaded  his  heart,  and  he 
looked  curiously  at  this  young  girl,  a  few  minutes 
before  unknown,  ignored,  unsuspected,  treated  with 
indifference,  as  a  child.  He  examined  her  with 
the  deepest  attention,  while  she  on  her  part  seemed 
to  be  stealthily  regarding  him,  not  without  some 
interest.  He  was  not  insignificant  and  merited 
attention,  he  thought  with  vanity.  This  happy 
hypothesis  accelerated  the  workings  of  his  excited 
brain,  and,  without  a  word  of  warning,  into  his 
heart  there  crept  a  new  and  sudden  love  destined 
to  revolutionise  his  life.  It  was  as  if  a  rare  and 
beautiful  flower  had  suddenly  blossomed  within 
him.  Until  now  he  had  only  dreamed  of  real 
affection,  and  unexpectedly  it  had  come  upon  him, 
filling  him  with  an  intoxicating  sweetness. 


186  PAUL   VERLAINE 

On  her  side  the  young  girl  on  the   verge  of 
womanhood,  which  opened  a  new  world  before  her, 
probably  felt  a  sudden  impulse,  a  momentary  but 
intense   excitement,    a   desire    to    respond    to   the 
ardent  feeling  she  felt  she  had  evoked  in  the  poet. 
Whatever  it  was  this  at  least  is  certain,   that  for 
that   one   and,    alas,    fleeting   hour,    there   reigned 
between  these  two  beings  the  harmony  of  perfect 
union.     I  dare  assert  that  both  were  instantaneously 
pleased ;  the  proof  of  it,  as  far  as  the  young  girl 
is  concerned,  is  that  Mdlle.  Mathilde  Maute",  very 
young,  and  living  in  comfortable  circumstances,  was 
in  a  position  to  look  forward  to  marrying  at  leisure, 
with   the   approval   of  her  family,    a   Government 
employe",  an  official,  a  merchant,  or  perhaps  a  man 
of  letters.     She  could  afford  to  wait  and  choose  ; 
yet  she  somewhat  precipitately  accepted  a  marriage 
that    she    might    have    put    off    for    an    indefinite 
period,    and   finally    refused    after    reflection    and 
comparison.     There  seemed  nothing  in  the  union 
to  attract  her ;  of  money  there  was  merely  a  com- 
petency, and  our  friend  could  hardly  be  regarded 
as  a  seductive  cavalier.     No  thought  of  ambition, 
no  desire  for  independence  entered  into  her  calcula- 
tions.    She  was  in  no  sort  of  haste  to  quit  her 
father's  house,  where  she  was  made  much  of,  spoilt, 
flattered,    adored,    and  wanted  for   nothing.      She 
had  no  romantic  tendencies,  but  already  gave  signs 
of    the   practical   commonsense    and    shrewd   self- 
possession  afterwards   to  distinguish  her.      There 
was  no  question  of  her  losing  her  head,  and  she 
never    permitted    her    lover    to    grow   bold,    with 
precocious    wisdom    and    unflagging    self  -  control 
restraining  his  masculine  impatience. 


MARRIAGE  187 

Ing  in  surroundings  where  literature  was  a 
frequent  topic  of  conversation,  and  artists  extolled, 
hearing  her  mother,  a  very  good  pianist,  eulogise 
notabilities,  and  her  brother,  Charles  de  Sivry, 
speak  familiarly  of  the  coming  men  with  whom 
he  consorted,  there  may  have  been  something 
particularly  attractive  in  the  literary  promise  which 
Verlaine  held  out;  and  perhaps,  too,  she  was 
dominated  by  the  force  of  the  passion  which 
emanated  from  him.  Doubtless,  it  was  love  at 
first  sight  on  both  sides,  and  the  union  immediately 
projected  was  a  true  love  match. 

Verlaine  has  himself  narrated  how  completely 
his  life  was  altered  by  this  meeting.  It  was  a 
veritable  moral  cyclone.  When  he  went  to  the 
Cafe  du  Delta  for  his  usual  absinthe,  he  quite 
forgot  to  drink  it!  Love  overcame  his  desire  for 
the  green  liquid :  a  miracle  not  to  be  repeated. 

The  poet  now  left  Paris ;  he  set  out  pre- 
cipitately, either  to  give  another  direction  to  his 
thoughts,  or  to  reason  with  the  love  by  which 
he  felt  himself  invaded.  He  went  to  the  north, 
his  refuge  and  consolation,  and  from  thence  he 
wrote  me  this  hurried  little  note,  for  he  had  gone 
away  without  a  word  of  warning  to  any  one : 

"  FAMPOUX,  chez  M.  Julien  D£he"e  (Pas  de 
Calais)  pres  Arras. 

"  Very  suffering  suddenly,  equally  sudden  de- 
parture. Letter  from  my  mother  to  my  Chief. 
Details  later,  or  prompt  return  in  accordance  with 
expected  reply.  Don't  forget  the  Forgerons. 
Write  to  me.  Keep  well.  Your  devoted 

"  P.  VERLAINE. 

"tfh  June  1869." 


188  PAUL   VERLAINE 

In  the  tranquillity  of  the  country  he  reasoned 
with  himself,  put  his  thoughts  in  order,  tested  his 
moral  pulse,  found  himself  very  much  in  love, 
decided  that  he  had  reason  to  be,  and  abruptly, 
perhaps  under  the  influence  of  some  inspiring 
draught,  wrote  a  long  letter  to  Charles  de  Sivry. 
This  missive  did  not  conform  to  the  etiquette 
usually  observed  in  such  circumstances.  Verlaine 
boldly,  even  roughly  demanded  from  his  friend 
the  hand  of  his  sister.  He  forgot  that  Charles 
de  Sivry,  unmistakable  as  was  his  musical  talent, 
was  only  a  young  man,  and  without  authority  in 
the  family ;  moreover,  as  merely  the  half-brother 
of  Mdlle.  Mathilde,  he  was  hardly  in  a  position 
to  bestow  or  withhold  the  little  hand  demanded. 

But  Verlaine  cared  little  in  this  moment  of  psychic 
exaltation  for  the  question  of  family  precedence. 
He  entirely  forgot  M.  Maute,  the  father ;  he  did 
not  even  think  of  the  mother,  with  whom  he  was 
on  quite  friendly  terms.  He  wrote  in  an  access 
of  fever.  He  threw  the  letter  into  the  box  as  if 
he  were  relieving  himself  of  some  compromising 
document,  and  still  under  the  influence  of  strong 
excitement,  returned  to  the  De'he'es  with  hasty 
step,  abstracted  air,  and  shining  eyes.  Without 
a  word  to  any  one,  he  threw  himself  on  his  bed 
and  slept  profoundly  until  he  was  called  to  dinner. 
The  Dehees  thought  he  had  been  drinking,  and 
his  sleep  aroused  no  comment  among  these  good 
people,  who  were  tolerant  of  over  indulgence  in 
beer  or  gin. 

A  letter  from  Charles  de  Sivry  soon  arrived, 
the  reply  so  impatiently  expected.  His  future 
brother-in-law  told  him  that,  taken  aback  by  the 


MARRIAGE  189 


very  unexpected  request,  he  had  communicated  its 
contents  first  of  all  to  his  sister.  This  was  another 
grave  breach  of  the  conventions,  but  no  notice 
was  taken  of  it.  Sivry  had  then  placed  the  matter 
before  his  mother,  who  referred  it  to  her  husband, 
M.  Maute*.  The  letter  ended  up  with  the  good 
words  that  he  might  hope.  M.  Haute*  hardly 
counted.  His  wife  and  daughter  approved  in 
principle,  that  was  the  important  thing.  There 
was  room  for  belief  that  a  happy  termination 
might  be  expected.  But  Paul  had  to  realise  that 
he  could  not  expect  an  immediate  reply,  still  it 
was  more  than  probable  he  had  not  to  fear  a 
refusal.  Sivry  urged  him  to  remain  some  days 
longer  in  the  country,  and  promised  to  join  him 
very  soon  and  take  him  back  to  Paris.  Then 
they  would  be  able  to  see  their  way,  and  matters 
could  be  arranged. 

In  order  to  explain  the  promptitude  with  which 
the  Maute"  family  agreed  to  the  project  of  marriage, 
we  must  remember  that  they  had  two  daughters 
and  their  fortune  was  inconsiderable.  Moreover, 
Verlaine,  physique  apart,  was  not  a  match  to  be 
despised.  He  was  not  a  mere  starveling  poet. 
Employed  in  the  Prefecture  de  la  Seine,  he  had  a 
substantial  and  secure  position,  greatly  appreciated 
in  the  middle-class  world.  He  was  a  Bachelier, 
and  consequently  might  hope,  through  examina- 
tions, to  obtain  an  even  better  appointment. 
Moreover,  an  only  son,  he  would  have  10,000 
good  livres  a  year  from  his  mother,  to  say  nothing 
of  other  relations  whose  heir  he  might  eventually 
be.  Finally,  he  had  written  to  Sivry  that  he  loved 
Mathilde  and  would  take  her  for  herself.  The 


190  PAUL  VERLAINE 

famous  sans  dot!  (without  dowry)   is  still  the  best 
"open  sesame"  in  middle-class  marriages. 

Verlaine  was  transported  with  joy ;  he  read 
the  comforting  words  over  and  over  again.  His 
imagination  advanced  events ;  he  saw  himself 
accepted,  hopeful,  received,  loved,  affianced,  and 
permitted  to  woo ;  and  then  he  thought  of  himself 
as  husband,  happy  husband !  He  learned  by  heart 
Sivry's  much  -  prized  letter,  and  in  his  emotion 
forgot  to  drink.  For  two  days  he  was  not  to  be 
seen  in  his  usual  haunts.  A  significant  symptom. 

Every  hour  was  now  enchanted.  A  fairy  tale. 
Every  night  he  dreamed  of  the  Jacob's  ladder  of 
lovers  which  led  up  to  Paradise.  During  these 
weeks  of  suspense  the  poet  was  subject  to  a 
hallucination.  He  created  an  ideal.  Certainly 
he  longed  for,  loved,  and  adored  her  who  became 
his  wife,  and  whom  he  afterwards  regretted  and 
yearned  after.  Yet  there  was  in  his  passion  a 
large  element  of  the  artistic  imagination.  He 
loved  objectively,  and  Mathilde  was  but  the 
representation  of  a  conception  of  his  mind. 
Hitherto  he  had  known  nothing  of  passion  accom- 
panied by  respect ;  and  this  love  of  his  founded 
on  admiration  for  purity  and  sweetness,  opened  a 
new  world  to  him.  No  one  had  ever  loved  nor 
seemed  to  prefer  him.  He  had  had  experience 
of  bought  caresses  and  knew  their  insincerity. 
His  consciousness  of  physical  imperfection,  and 
the  difficulties  he  would  have  to  overcome  if, 
experiencing  passion,  he  desired  to  inspire  it, 
intensified  the  entirely  new  feeling  of  joy  and 
pride  which  had  taken  possession  of  him  when 
he  found  himself  singled  out,  appreciated,  perhaps 


MARRIAGE  191 

even  desired  by  a  young  girl  brought  up  among 
conditions  of  complete  innocence  and  honesty ; 
and,  moreover,  as  he  thought  to  himself  with  proud 
satisfaction,  he  would  certainly  be  the  first  who 
taught  the  young  Mathilde  how  to  love.  She 
was  so  young,  as  he  frequently  remarked,  a  great 
qualification  and  yet  a  grave  defect.  It  was  not 
long  before  he  realised  this. 

Directly  the  idea  had  entered  his  impression- 
able  brain   that    it    was   possible   for   him    to    be 
loved    by   a    pure    innocent    being,    with   feelings 
as   yet   unsuspected   in   which    he   would    be    her 
initiator,  than,  like  Pygmalion  with   his   animated 
statute,   he    was  dominated.      The   possibility   in- 
toxicated him,  turned  his  brain,  suggested  to  him 
hypotheses,    visions,   situations,   and   combinations, 
such    as    the    condition    of    drunkenness    induces. 
These  imaginations  of  his  soon  appeared  to  him 
in  the  light  of  realities.     By  force  of  concentrated 
thought,      such      transformations      are      affected. 
Verlaine   in   the   sylvan   solitudes   of  the    Pas-de- 
Calais,  smoking  pipes,  emptying  glasses,  wander- 
ing  over    the    melancholy  plains   green   with   the 
leaves  of  the  beetroot,  and  along  the  silent  stretches 
of  white   road,   put   into   practice  that  marvellous 
theory,  established  by  the  savants  of  Nancy,  auto- 
suggestion. 

The  result  was  that  he  fell  really  in  love,  and 
found  it  quite  possible  to  believe  that,  loving  and 
desiring,  he  too  was  loved  and  desired.  At  length, 
Charles  de  Sivry  followed  him  to  Fampoux  and 
brought  him  the  favourable  response  already  hinted 
at,  and  by  the  lover  taken  for  granted.  He  con- 
firmed his  first  letter;  his  mother  and  sister  were 


192  PAUL  VERLAINE 

disposed  to  accede  to  M.  Paul  Verlaine's  demand, 
but  time  for  reflection  was  necessary,  and  Madame 
Verlaine's  opinion  must  be  ascertained,  for  Paul  had 
forgotten  to  acquaint  his  mother  with  his  matri- 
monial projects.  Afterwards  the  Maut6  family 
were  going  to  stay  with  friends  in  Normandy  for 
two  months,  and  on  their  return  the  matter  should 
be  definitely  decided. 

This  week,  passed  in  the  society  of  Charles  de 
Sivry  who,  for  distraction,  took  the  organ  on 
Sunday,  and  played  his  own  improvisations,  airs 
de  ballet,  and  operetta  choruses  in  the  church  at 
Fampoux,  only  increased  Paul's  desire  for  the 
acceptance  of  his  proposal,  since  it  had  not  been 
refused  and  no  serious  objection  had  been  raised. 
He  returned  to  Paris  with  Sivry,  and  informed  his 
mother.  Madame  Verlaine,  a  little  surprised  at 
her  dissipated  son's  unexpected  determination  to 
make  an  end  to  youthful  follies  and  settle  down, 
evinced  no  dissatisfaction.  The  Maut6  family, 
with  whom  she  was  slightly  acquainted  through 
my  mother  and  Madame  Bertaux,  appeared  to  her 
suitable.  At  the  same  time  she  raised  her  eye- 
brows when  Paul  told  her  that  a  dowry  was  not 
to  be  expected.  But  what  was  more  important  to 
her  mind  than  any  other  consideration,  was  the 
regular  existence  that  her  son  would  henceforward 
lead.  A  married  man  cannot  continue  to  frequent 
wine-shops.  She  had  found  Paul  one  morning 
lying  on  his  bed  fully  dressed,  with  his  high  hat 
covered  with  mud  still  on  his  head.  He  would 
certainly  acquire,  thanks  to  the  conjugal  state, 
better  habits. 

Already  she  observed  a  notable  change  in  her 


MARRIAGE  193 

son.  He  had  come  from  the  station  without 
stopping  at  the  cafe's  of  the  Gare  du  Nord,  and 
when  embracing  him  on  his  arrival  she  had  not 
detected  any  odour  of  liquor.  This  happy  state 
of  affairs  continued  ;  in  the  days  that  followed  his 
return  Verlaine  did  not  drink  to  excess,.  He  feared 
lest  he  should  be  invited  to  commence  his  wooing 
without  having  had  time  to  dissipate  the  fumes  of 
alcohol.  He  was  sufficiently  aware  of  his  weakness 
to  distrust  circumstances  and  temptations.  It  might 
happen  that  at  the  first  interview,  for  the  other 
hardly  counted,  he  would  have  to  present  himself  in 
a  disconcerting  state  of  excitement,  with  haggard 
eye,  wild  gesture,  and  broken  speech,  which  would 
be  disastrous  and  completely  destroy  the  scaffold- 
ing of  happiness  erected  by  his  imagination  ;  he 
therefore  kept  a  watch  over  himself.  He  also 
became  a  more  punctilious  clerk,  and  was  compli- 
mented by  his  chief.  His  absence  was  remarked 
at  the  Cafe  du  Gaz.  He  returned  home  early,  and 
did  not  resent  his  mother's  proposal  to  accompany 
her  when  she  visited  friends  at  the  Batignolles, 
where  bteique  was  played  at  a  farthing  a  thousand, 
accompanied  by  tea  and  dry  cakes. 

He  had,  however,  managed,  with  Charles  de 
Sivry's  aid,  to  exchange  letters  with  the  young  girl 
in  Normandy,  pages  as  innocent  in  matter  as  in 
style,  for  he  not  only  kept  a  guard  over  his  thirst 
but  over  his  pen.  Mdlle.  Haute"  announced  her 
approaching  return  to  Paris,  and  recommended  him 
to  be  wise  and  patient,  and  think  of  the  future. 
The  little  lady  reasoned  with  magnificent  gravity 
that  the  match  was  suitable  in  every  respect  both 
as  regards  age,  tastes,  education,  position,  and  even 

N 


194  PAUL  VERLA1NE 

money,  and  spoke  with  certainty  of  their  speedily 
approaching  happiness.     She  made  economical  and 
prudent  suggestions,    and    indicated    the    kind   of 
apartment  to  be  chosen  :  a  light  and  airy  one,  even 
though  high  up,  would  be  best.     They  were  young, 
and  had  legs  with  which  to  climb  the  stairs.     She 
occupied  herself  with  the  consideration  of  how  the 
conjugal  nest  was  to  be  furnished,  and  even  sug- 
gested that  his  bed  should  be  a  plain  wooden  one, 
while  hers  should  have  pink  and  blue  silk  hangings. 
Verlaine   therefore   had   to   do  his  courting  by 
letter,    a   circumstance   greatly   to    his   advantage. 
His    epistolary    efforts    were    always    interesting, 
humorous,  and  amusing,  moreover  he  often  wrote 
in   verse,   keeping  pace  with  his  feelings,  desires, 
and  impatience  in  the  delicate  and  charming  stanzas, 
afterwards   collected   together   in   the   volume    La 
Bonne  Chanson,  a  title  that  later  on  had  a  sound 
of  irony.     This  poetic  labour  finished  the  conquest 
of  his  heart.     Composition,  choice  of  words,  study 
of  rhymes  were  all  as  fuel  to  the  flame  he  had  him- 
self kindled  and  daily  stirred  into  greater  intensity 
with  his  ardent  verses. 

At  length  the  Maute  family  returned  from 
Normandy,  and  the  long-looked-forward-to  inter- 
view took  place  in  the  Rue  Nicolet  one  evening 
after  dinner.  He  has  himself  described  quite 
simply  what  occurred  on  this  occasion ;  one  on 
which  there  must  always  be  a  certain  amount  of 
stiffness  and  formality  on  both  sides.  Like  every 
other  man  in  similar  circumstances  he  had  taken 
exceptional  trouble  with  his  toilet,  and  over  and 
over  again  his  mother  had  tied  the  knot  of  his 
cravate  Lavalliere. 


MARRIAGE  195 

When  he  was  ushered  into  the  salon  of  the 
Rue  Nicolet  the  mother  of  the  young  girl  came 
forward  and  encouraged  him  with  a  handshake 
and  a  smile.  She  then  presented  him  to  her 
husband,  M.  Maute,  an  ex-notary  with  the  ruddy 
face  and  shrewd  air  of  a  countryman^  grown  rich, 
kind-hearted  in  reality,  but  with  a  keen  eye  to 
his  own  interests,  and  the  unintellectuality  and 
suspicion  of  a  business  man. 

At  last  the  young  Mathilde  entered ;  she  no 
longer  wore  the  costume  immortalised  in  La  Bonne 
Chanson :  "La  robe  grise  et  verte  avec  des 
ruches  ; "  but  Verlaine  was  too  much  overcome  at 
the  time  ever  to  be  able  to  recall  in  what  manner 
his  fiancte  was  dressed  on  this  momentous  day. 
Here  was  the  apparition  which  had  haunted  his 
dreams,  here  in  the  flesh,  living  and  smiling  before 
him !  She  appeared  to  him  even  more  delightful 
and  charming  than  on  the  first  occasion.  The 
reality  surpassed  his  imagination.  They  seated 
themselves  round  the  table  and  began  to  talk, 
saying  little  things  that  sounded  insignificant,  but 
were  full  of  promise  for  the  two  beings  whose 
destiny  was  soon  to  be  irrevocably  knit  together. 
The  consent  of  the  parents  was  obtained ;  the 
claimant  was  accepted,  and  every  evening  hence- 
forward Verlaine  appeared  at  the  house  in  the 
Rue  Nicolet,  at  the  earliest  possible  moment.  I 
had  scarcely  any  letters  from  him  during  this  year. 
He  almost  entirely  neglected  his  cafe*  companions, 
and  his  best  friends  only  saw  him  for  a  few  minutes 
at  intervals.  He  was  seldom  at  Lemerre's,  and 
his  visits  to  Leconte  de  Lisle  and  Banville  practi- 
cally ceased.  I  was  not  often  in  his  company,  and 


196  PAUL  VERLAINE 

rarely  went  to  see  him  at  the  H6tel-de-Ville  as 
I  was  very  much  occupied  by  journalism,  and  the 
violent  political  struggles  then  in  progress.  His 
letters  to  me  were  only  on  the  subject  of  the 
Forgerons,  now  in  abeyance,  and  to  which  marriage 
and  later  events  were  to  put  a  stop  for  ever. 

While  his  courting  proceeded  Verlaine  continued 
to  compose  La  Bonne  Chanson.  This  period  of 
waiting  extending  over  nearly  a  year  had  but 
intensified  the  desires  of  the  young  wooer.  All 
the  necessary  details  had  been  arranged  except 
the  date  of  the  ceremony.  The  end  of  the  spring 
or  the  beginning  of  the  summer  of  1870  was 
suggested.  But  the  proverb  of  the  cup  and  the 
lip  is  often  verified  :  illness  abruptly  intervened,  and 
one  day  when  he  presented  himself  in  the  Rue 
Nicolet  with  his  usual  smile,  Verlaine  found  his 
fiancee  in  bed  with  chicken-pox.  Although  he 
was  of  a  rather  timid  and  fearful  temperament,  on 
this  occasion  passion  had  the  upper  hand  and  made 
him  bold,  even  rash ;  he  insisted  on  seeing  the 
sick  girl,  and  was  allowed  to  enter  her  room ;  but 
having  heard  incoherent  words  fall  from  the  feverish 
young  lips  moving  in  delirium  he  retired  dis- 
couraged, overwhelmed,  the  blackest  phantoms 
haunting  his  homeward  path  to  the  Batignolles. 

The  marriage  which  had  been  announced  was 
indefinitely  postponed.  He  analysed  in  very  clear 
fashion  the  feelings  of  irritation,  misgiving,  and 
sorrow  which  assailed  him  in  this  hour  : 

"With  the  very  real  unhappiness,  which  like 
all  very  real  unhappiness,  moral  or  physical,  was 
quite  pure,  was  mingled,  how  can  I  confess  it 
without  blushing,  a  certain  vile  carnal  disappoint- 


ment. 


MARRIAGE  197 


ment.  Here  was  my  marriage  postponed  to  the 
Grecian  Calends.  This  meant  prolonged  abstinence 
— an  abstinence  to  which  I  was  ashamed  to  give 
a  name.  I  was  in  the  position  of  one — excuse  a 
vulgar  simile  to  express  a  vulgar  sentiment — to 
whom  more  butter  than  bread  had  been  promised, 
and  neither  was  forthcoming." 

But  at  last  the  illness  abated,  convalescence  set 
in,  and  the  marriage  was  fixed  for  the  first  fortnight 
in  July.  Now  came  a  new  misfortune  ;  the  mother 
was  taken  ill  in  her  turn ;  the  epidemic  seemed  to 
be  running  through  the  house.  However,  Madame 
Maute*  quickly  recovered.  It  was  decided  the 
marriage  should  take  place  in  the  month  of  August, 
and  Verlaine  went  to  Normandy  for  a  few  days. 
He  had  been  invited  thither  by  the  Marquise  de 
Manoury,  a  very  excellent  woman,  not  beautiful, 
provincial  in  manner,  open-hearted,  and  destined  to 
a  series  of  singular  adventures  which  came  before 
the  Courts,  for  she  was  successively  despoiled  by 
several  unscrupulous  gallants,  to  whom  she  had 
imprudently  yielded  herself.  Very  hospitable, 
generous,  and  with  a  certain  fortune,  she  sought 
out  poets,  artists,  and  Bohemians,  and  welcomed 
them  to  her  Norman  manor,  which  became  a 
regular  annexe  of  Nina's. 

Verlaine's  impatience  had  redoubled  as  his 
wedding  day  drew  near,  until  he  became  so  irritable 
that  it  was  feared  he  might  fall  ill  in  his  turn,  and 
Mathilde  had  therefore  commanded  him  to  go 
away  for  a  week,  and  he  had  obeyed  with  docility. 
During  his  absence  he  wrote  numerous  letters  and 
composed  many  poems,  the  greater  number  of 
which  were  unfortunately  lost,  and  do  not  figure 


198  PAUL  VERLAINE 

in  La  Bonne  Chanson.  On  his  return  to  Paris 
the  final  arrangements  for  the  marriage  were  com- 
pleted, the  legal  announcements  had  been  made, 
and  there  was  just  time  for  the  tailor,  dressmaker, 
jeweller,  and  the  furnishing  of  the  young  couple. 
But  a  tragic  incident  troubled  the  young  lover. 
Three  days  before  the  wedding  one  of  our  friends, 
a  young  writer  and  habitug  of  the  Salon  Ricard, 
Lambert  de  Poissy,  having  lost  an  adored  mistress, 
blew  out  his  brains  at  Passy.  He  had  informed 
Verlaine  of  his  fatal  decision,  and  charged  him  with 
various  commissions.  As  the  latter  was  returning 
after  the  burial  of  this  poor  comrade,  depressed  and 
dispirited,  he  sat  down  at  a  table  in  the  Cafe" 
Madrid  to  read  the  newspapers  and  quench  his 
thirst.  The  town  was  at  the  time  in  a  feverish 
and  tragic  state  of  agitation.  The  war  had  just 
begun  in  terrible  earnest ;  the  first  cannon  balls 
had  been  fired,  and  already  the  sinister  phantom 
of  defeat  upreared  itself  on  our  invaded  frontier. 
Moreover,  a  baseless  joy  filled  Paris  with  ferment. 
A  false  telegram  had  announced  a  great  victory 
and  proclaimed  the  defeat  of  the  army  of  Prince 
Frederic-Charles.  MacMahon  was  reputed  to  be 
master  of  the  situation  with  cannons  and  standards 
captured  from  the  enemy.  All  the  boulevards  were 
gay  with  flags  ;  cries  of  joy  went  up  from  every 
throat;  in  the  cafes  animated  and  excited  conversa- 
tions spread  from  one  table  to  another.  Men  and 
women  embraced,  talked  familiarly  to  any  one  they 
met,  and  recounted  with  amplifications  the  details  of 
the  victory.  "  Prince  Fre'de'ric-Charles  had  been 
surrounded  by  the  Chasseurs  d'Afrique  and  com- 
pelled to  surrender."  "  Not  at  all,"  said  another 


MARRIAGE  199 

narrator  who  appeared  better  informed,  "  it  was 
Captain  So-and-so  of  such-and-such  a  regiment." 
In  another  group  the  arrival  in  Paris  of  the  flags 
taken  from  the  enemy  was  announced,  and  it  was 
suggested  that  they  should  be  exhibited  on  the 
boulevards  before  they  were  suspended  in  the  tomb 
at  the  Invalides.  .  .  . 

Suddenly  at  the  Bourse  arrived  a  blunt  contradic- 
tion. They  had  been  defeated,  and  MacMahon  was 
in  full  retreat.  It  was  a  complete  rout,  lugubrious 
presage  of  defeats  to  come. 

Verlaine,  who  had  spent  the  day  before  in 
arranging  with  the  police  magistrate  and  Govern- 
ment officials  at  Passy  for  the  burial  of  poor 
Lambert  de  Poissy,  had  not  had  time  to  read 
the  newspapers,  and  fell  into  the  midst  of  the 
uproar  without  an  idea  of  what  was  going  forward. 
At  the  Cafe  de  Madrid  he  met  some  friends  who 
speedily  acquainted  him  with  the  matter,  and  he 
was  very  soon  at  one  with  the  general  enthusiasm 
— particularly  so  after  swallowing  two  stiff  drinks 
in  rapid  succession.  A  regiment  passed  along  the 
boulevard ;  the  friends  in  question,  Delescluze, 
Charles  Quentin,  Peyrouton,  Jules  Ferry,  Henri 
Maret,  Lissagaray,  myself,  and  many  others  since 
disappeared  or  dead,  nearly  all  of  whom  were 
journalists  on  the  side  of  the  opposition  raised  the 
cry  of  "Vive  la  Republique  !  "  Verlaine,  standing 
among  them  and  conspicuous  by  reason  of  his  very 
tall  hat,  mourning  garments,  and  the  umbrella  he 
brandished  in  his  hand,  joined  his  voice  to  theirs 
to  the  indignation  of  a  bystander  who  angrily  called 
out,  " You  ought  to  cry  'Vive  la  France!'  There 
is  no  Republic  here,"  at  the  same  time  pointing 


200  PAUL  VERLAINE 

out  the  poet  to  the  police,  who  came  forward  as 
if  to  arrest  him.  The  habitues  of  the  Cafe"  de 
Madrid  were  luckily  in  full  force,  and  ready  for 
collisions  with  the  police,  which  were  then  of  almost 
daily  occurrence.  These  were  the  days  of  the 
"  Blouses  Blanches."  One  evening  two  policemen 
had  besieged  the  cafe*,  and  we  had  barricaded  it 
with  chairs  and  tables.  Resistance  was  customary ; 
the  police  were  once  more  repulsed,  and  Verlaine 
was  dragged  away  and  told  to  slip  off  as  rapidly 
as  possible  by  the  Passage  Jouffroy.  He  did  not 
need  to  be  told  twice.  On  the  way  home,  how- 
ever, he  stopped  for  further  refreshment,  for  he  was 
very  hot  and  his  excitement  had  made  him  thirsty. 
The  evening  papers  were  just  out,  and  buying  one 
his  eyes  fell  on  the  following  announcement : 

"  The  Empress  Regent  has  promulgated  .  .  . 
the  following  law  :  All  unmarried  men  belonging  to 
the  division  of  1844-1845  who  have  not  joined  the 
army,  are  now  summoned  to  serve  under  the  flag." 

Verlaine  belonged  to  the  division  of  1844.  He 
was  exempt  by  his  number,  by  having  furnished  a 
substitute,  and,  moreover,  by  being  the  son  of  a 
widow  ;  but  the  decree  had  been  passed — he  would 
have  to  serve.  His  patriotic  sentiments  vanished 
for  the  moment.  He  no  longer  thought  of  crying 
"Vive  la  Re"publique ! "  nor  "Vive"  anything  at 
all,  and  bringing  down  his  fist  violently  upon  the 
table  he  cried,  "  My  marriage  is  off!  .  .  ."  and 
thereupon  ordered  another  absinthe,  which  he  drank 
savagely. 

Now  the  marriage  was  fixed  for  the  following 
day.  He  poured  out  his  fears  to  his  fianctes 


MARRIAGE  201 

family,  but  they  soothed  and  reassured  him.  The 
rapidity  with  which  the  ceremony  was  to  take 
place  would  probably  enable  him  to  evade  the 
new  law.  Verlaine  asserted  that  he  would  conform 
to  it  very  willingly  once  the  marriage  was  con- 
summated. He  was  not  afraid  to  serve  his  country, 
but  that  his  long-expected  happiness  would  be  post- 
poned again  perhaps  indefinitely,  for  war  is  not  play, 
and  those  who  embark  on  it  may  never  return. 

Verlaine  had  kept  me  informed  of  his  impatience, 
his  fears,  and  his  long  and  passionate  expectation  ; 
but  I  had  gone  off  with  my  regiment  directly  war 
was  declared,  a  little  uncertain  as  to  the  conclusion 
of  the  marriage.  Grave  events  such  as  those  which 
were  preparing  have  terrible  effects  upon  private 
interests.  I  was,  therefore,  not  present  at  the 
ceremony,  though  in  spirit  I  was  with  the  young 
couple,  for  hearing  that  it  was  after  all  to  take 
place,  I  sent  from  the  I3th  corps  of  the  army  of 
the  Rhine  to  M.  Paul  Verlaine,  lyrical  poet,  and 
Madame  Paul  Verlaine,  Rue  Le'cluse,  a  poem,  a 
sort  of  epithalamium,  which,  if  it  reached  them  in 
time,  would  recall  me  to  the  remembrance  of  the 
pair,  and  signify  my  part  in  the  simple  ceremony. 
The  hour  was  a  tragic  one,  the  wedding  one  under 
sinister  auspices.  Verlaine's  witnesses  were  Le"on 
Valade  and  Paul  Foucher.  The  ceremony  took 
place  at  the  Mairie  at  Montmartre,  and  at  the 
Church  of  Notre  Dame  de  Clignancourt.  Among 
those  present  was  a  woman  destined  to  rather 
extraordinary  celebrity,  Louise  Michel,  then  a 
schoolmistress  at  Montmartre,  a  connection  of 
M.  Maute"s. 

Paul    Verlaine's    honeymoon    was    sullen    and 


202  PAUL   VERLAINE 

blood-red,  and  his  nuptial  hymn  lost  amid  the 
roar  of  cannon.  To  set  up  housekeeping  in  the 
midst  of  the  general  disorder  could  only  end  in 
confusion.  I  have  already  referred  to  the  circum- 
stances attendant  on  Verlaine's  service  as  official 
and  national  guard  during  the  siege  and  under 
the  Commune,  and  also  the  first  misunderstandings 
between  the  young  couple  which  were  created  and 
developed  by  the  strife  and  convulsions  around 
them.  Yet  this  gloomy  period  was  in  the  literary 
history  of  the  nineteenth  century  that  of  La  Bonne 
Chanson. 

La  Bonne  Chanson  was  composed  during  the 
winter  of  1869  and  the  spring  of  1870.  The 
majority  of  the  poems  contained  in  it,  and  doubtless 
others  afterwards  lost,  were  addressed  by  Verlaine 
to  his  fiancee  during  her  two  or  three  visits  to 
Normandy.  It  consists  of  twenty-six  short  poems, 
and  was  published  during  the  war — "A  flower  in 
a  bombshell,"  as  Victor  Hugo  said.  The  original 
edition  was  printed  on  tinted  Whatman  paper  ; 
format  in- 3 2,  and  on  the  cover :  "  Paul  Verlaine 
— La  Bonne  Chanson."  Publisher's  trade  mark — 
"  Paris,  Alphonse  Lemerre,  £diteur,  Passage 
Choiseul  47,  1870."  The  volume  contains  only 
thirty-eight  pages,  and  on  the  last  sheet  are  the 
words:  "Achieve*  d'imprimer  le  douze  juin  mil  huit 
cent  soixante-dix,  par  L.  Toinon  et  Cie.,  pour  A. 
Lemerre,  editeur  a  Paris."  We  only  possess  a 
selection  of  the  tender  and  loving  poems  which 
Verlaine  wrote  during  his  period  of  eager  suspense. 

"  Many   of  these   almost   spontaneous   produc- 
tions," he  wrote  in  the  Confessions,  Part  II.,  "were 


LA   BONNE  CHANSON  203 

suppressed  when  the  final  MS.  was  sent  to  Alphonse 
Lemerre,  and,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  I  now  regret 
them.  .  .  .  The  pieces  sacrificed  were  certainly 
equal  in  value  to  the  others,  and  I  have  asked 
myself  why  this  ostracism  .  .  .  Puritan  perhaps." 

Verlaine  seems  to  indicate  that  the  poems  were 
sacrificed  on  account  of  their  warmth,  yet  they 
were  destined  for  a  young  girl  in  his  relations  with 
whom  he  observed  the  most  scrupulous  delicacy. 
One  piece  was  retained  which  was  certainly  couched 
in  more  passionate  terms,  a  sort  of  initiation,  but 
this  he  declared  he  only  sent  her  in  a  modified 
form. 

"  Alas,"  added  the  poet,  surprised  in  retrospect 
at  his  scruples,  "ought  I  not  to  have  sung  other 
songs  (e.g.,  Chansons  pour  Elle,  Odes  en  son 
Honneur)  from  which  every  trace  of  hyprocrisy,  or  to 
speak  more  plainly,  restraint  was  carefully  banished, 
and  in  connection  with  which  there  would  be  no 
need  of  repentance,  for,  on  the  contrary,  they  would 
have  lulled  my  almost  entirely  material  desires,  only 
to  awaken  more  ardent  and  eager." 

Verlaine  gave  proof  more  than  once  of  his 
special  predilection  for  this  volume.  In  the  first 
place,  it  testified  to  days  of  happiness  ;  these  poems 
of  true  love  recalled  past  ecstasies  and  joys  long  since 
fled,  putting  back  the  hands  of  time's  clock  until 
it  struck  once  more  the  hours  of  happiness.  More- 
over, in  La  Bonne  Chanson,  Mathilde,  his  wife, 
loved,  desired,  and  madly  regretted,  appeared  as 
the  enamoured  imagination  of  the  poet  always 
pictured  her,  adorned  with  every  virtue,  every 
charm,  loving,  sweet,  gentle,  and  happy  in  the 


204  PAUL  VERLAINE 

happiness  she  bestowed.  Considering  it  from  the 
purely  literary  point  of  view,  we  cannot  share 
Verlaine's  fond  preference.  In  our  eyes  the  chief 
interest  of  this  marriage  bouquet,  whose  flowers 
have  been  jealously  hidden  away  to  dry  in 
memory's  herbal,  is  that  it  reveals  a  new  poetic 
method  on  the  part  of  him  who  fashioned  it. 

La  Bonne  Chanson  is  a  transition  from  objective, 
descriptive,  plastic  verse  to  personal  expression, 
the  soul's  confession.  It  is  the  substitution  of  one 
method  of  art  for  another.  To  sentiments  received, 
suggested,  and  developed  rather  than  felt,  to 
imaginary  passions,  invented  sorrows,  sensations 
obtained  from  reading,  conversation,  hypothesis,  and 
human  companionship,  has  succeeded  intimate,  sub- 
jective, personal  poetry,  the  result  of  feeling,  living, 
and  suffering. 

It  was  no  longer  the  Victor  Hugo  of  La  Ltgende 
des  Siecles,  but  the  poet  of  the  Feuilles  d'Automne, 
and  the  Contemplations,  whose  influence  was  hence- 
forward in  the  ascendant.  The  transformation  thus 
begun,  continued  in  the  Romances  sans  Paroles,  and 
completed  in  Sagesse,  owed  something  also  to  certain 
personal  poems  by  Madame  Desbordes  -  Valmore, 
and  Sainte-Beuve.  With  what  admiration  has  Paul 
quoted  to  me  fragments  of  that  exquisitely  delicate 
poem:  Toujoursje  la  connus  pensive  et  se'rieuse.  .  .  . 

Love,  longing,  and  the  delight  of  revealing 
himself  in  the  language  of  poetry  which  he  knew 
far  better  than  that  of  everyday  life,  all  combined 
to  impel  him  to  this  change  in  his  art.  It  was  like 
a  first  conversion,  and  later  on  we  shall  see  this 
new  method  of  the  poet's  which  now  was  almost 
instinctive,  spontaneously  generated  from  the  events 


LA  BONNE  CHANSON  205 

of  his  life,  and  inspired  by  the  incidents  of  his 
amorous  adventure,  develop  and  take  definite  shape. 

In  the  hour  when  the  poet  sang  La  Bonne 
Chanson,  that  unforgettable  hour  which  most  of  us 
have  experienced,  and  the  delights  of  which  only 
an  artist  can  transcribe,  he  cast  away  the  cloak  of 
abstraction,  and  poured  forth  his  love  like  the  wild 
bird  of  the  woods,  forgetful  of  all  but  the  one  for 
whom  his  melodies  arose  like  a  fountain  at  night 
among  the  marbles. 

How  magnificent  in  its  abandonment  to  genuine 
feeling  is  that  enthusiastic  appeal  to  the  Beatrice 
henceforward  his  guide,  his  rescuer  from  the  hungry 
maw  of  that  Hell  into  which  he  had  been  rapidly 
disappearing  ;  it  begins  : 

"  Puisque  1'aube  grandit,  puisque  void  Faurore, 
Puisqu  'apres  m'avoir  fui  longtemps,  1'espoir  veut  bien." 

This  is  an  echo  of  De  Musset,  the  poet  Verlaine 
violently  decried,  the  dead  god  he  desired  to  throw 
down  from  his  altar  of  clay ;  it  is  one  of  those 
Titanesque  sobs  of  despair  and  disgust  with  which 
Verlaine  was  afterwards  to  be  shaken  by  his  intense 
desire  to  follow  in  peace  and  happiness  the  smooth 
and  tranquil  path  along  which  the  "heart's  com- 
panion found  at  last "  beckoned  him.  Here  are 
open  raptures  testifying  to  the  deep  and  elevating 
tumult  of  his  being  in  this  springtime  of  storm  and 
tempest  in  the  disastrous  year  of  1870,  afterwards 
to  be  known  as  the  Terrible  Year,  which  for  him 
always  remained  amidst  the  thunder  of  artillery  and 
the  crash  of  empires  the  happy  year,  the  blessed 
year,  the  good  year  of  La  Bonne  Chanson. 

He  was  sincere  when  he  made  the  vow,  even 


206  PAUL  VERLAINE 

as  a  young  priest  might  have  done  on  the  eve  of 
ordination : 

"  Oui,  je  veux  marcher  droit  et  calme  dans  la  vie, 
Vers  le  but  ou  le  sort  dirigera  mes  pas, 
Sans  violence,  sans  remords  et  sans  envie  :  .  .  ." 

He  had  hope  and  faith  ;  marriage  for  him  was 
a  true  sacrament,  an  initiation  of  the  soul.  He 
had  never  loved,  never  been  loved  before.  It  was 
the  most  wonderful  moment  in  his  life.  After- 
wards, in  the  midst  of  cries,  blasphemies,  psalms, 
elegies,  invectives,  hiccups,  and  benedictions,  there 
often  sounded  in  the  ears  of  the  poet,  cursing 
and  cursed,  the  consoling  words  of  his  divine 
ritournelle : 

"  De  sa  chanson,  bonne  ou  mauvaise, 
Mais  temoignant  sincerement 
Sans  fausse  note  et  sans  fadaise, 
Du  doux  mal  qu'on  souffre  en  aimant." 

We  shall  see  how  quickly  the  sky  changed  and 
night  fell  upon  this  heart  as  it  lay  basking  in  the 
sun  of  love,  and  blossoming  with  hope.  In  1870 
Verlaine  found  everything  beautiful  and  good,  for 
joy  was  in  his  heart  and  love  in  his  eyes.  He 
admired  travelling  by  train  across  the  sombre  plains 
of  the  north,  even  the  telegraph  posts,  the  wires, 
had  a  strange  charm  seen  through  the  carriage 
windows.  The  odour  of  coal  and  water,  the  noise 
of  chains,  the  grinding  of  axles,  had  no  power  to 
trouble  him  rapt  as  he  was  in  the  contemplation 
of  the  white  vision  which  made  his  heart  rejoice. 
The  sound  of  the  voice  of  the  well-beloved  seemed 
to  mingle  with  the  rattling  of  the  prosaic  train, 


LA  BONNE  CHANSON  207 

making  it  melodious.  In  Paris  he  found  the 
suburban  route  he  had  to  take  bright  and  splendid, 
with  its  noisy  wine-shops,  muddy  footpaths,  and 
rattling  omnibuses,  its  workmen  pipe  in  mouth, 
its  damp  walls,  its  slippery  pavement,  all  the 
abominable  surroundings  of  the  outer  boulevards 
from  Montmartre  to  Clignancourt,  because  he  was 
going  to  keep  an  appointment,  and  paradise  lay 
at  the  end  of  his  journey.  He  believed  in  this 
paradise,  and  all  of  us  in  one  way  or  another  have 
had  the  same  illusion.  Verlaine's  Bonne  Chanson, 
with  its  beautiful  artistic  title,  is  an  autobiography 
only  in  its  details.  It  is  rather  a  stanza  taken 
from  the  eternal  poem  of  youthful  love,  and  there- 
fore it  will  live. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE    RUPTURE ARTHUR    RIMBAUD 

(I87LI873) 

LA  BONNE  CHANSON  was  only  sung  for  a  season  ; 
epithalamiums  are  the  poems  of  a  day.  We  have 
already  alluded  to  the  first  domestic  grumblings, 
forerunners  of  violent  storms,  and  the  final  cyclone 
which  was  to  sweep  away  the  conjugal  happiness 
and  family  life  of  the  poet.  I  am  far  from  putting 
the  entire  blame  on  the  wife — whom  he  adored  and 
cursed  in  a  breath — and  recognise  that  my  friend 
was  greatly  in  the  wrong ;  but  as  he  said  reproach- 
fully in  that  wistful  stanza  of  the  Romances  sans 
Paroles,  she  had  not  sufficient  patience  nor  gentle- 
ness. Verlaine  was  easily  led,  and  could  without 
difficulty  have  been  persuaded  to  accept  tranquillity, 
regular  work,  and  a  peaceful  and  orderly  existence. 
It  is  difficult  for  a  woman  to  whom  her  husband  only 
displays  indifference,  and  frequently  gives  cause  for 
jealousy,  and  sometimes,  worse  still,  replaces  by  a 
permanent  and  acknowledged  rival,  to  entice  him 
back  to  her  side  and  re-establish  peace  in  the  home  ; 
but  Verlaine  adored  his  wife,  she  could  have  led 
him  where  and  how  she  would — he  was  wholly 
hers. 

The  conjugal   knot  was  soon  strengthened  by 
208 


THE   RUPTURE  209 


the  anticipated  birth  of  a  child.  All  his  life 
Verlaine  spoke  with  emotion  of  his  son  Georges, 
whom  he  was  never  to  hold  in  his  arms.  He 
wrote  to  Stephane  Mallarme",  when  a  professor  at 
the  Lyce"e  Condorcet,  for  information  about  young 
Georges,  whom  he  supposed  had  become  a  pupil 
there;  and  later  still,  he  begged  me  to  make 
enquiries  at  Orleans,  where  the  young  man  was 
working  as  a  clockmaker.  His  son  and  his  wife 
were  two  chains  from  which  he  never  entirely 
broke  free,  for  he  loved  them,  these  legal  shackles. 
Broken  or  cut  it  would  have  been  easy  to  join 
them  together  again,  for  he  desired  it. 

The   great   difficulty   was   to   struggle    against 
drink,  to  conquer  the   terrible    disease   which  was 
the   prime   cause   of   the   scenes,    reproaches,    and 
violent  quarrels  between  the  two.     I  have  already 
alluded   to   Verlaine's  fatal  alcoholic   progress :   in 
early  youth  during  visits  to  his  indulgent  relations, 
the  Dehees  of  Fampoux,  the  Dujardins  of  Le"cluse, 
and  the  Grandjeans  of  Paliseul,  he  had  acquired  a 
taste   for   beer,    gin    and  bistouille ;    as  a  Govern- 
ment clerk  with  a  little  money  in  his  pocket,  the 
desire  for  heady  liquids  had  grown  upon  him,  and 
the  siege  of  Paris,  with  its  dearth  of  victuals,  and 
abundance  of  liquids,   its  enforced    inactivity   and 
compulsory  camaraderie,  still  further  developed  his 
fatal  dipsomania.     When  sober,  Verlaine  was  the 
sweetest,    most    amiable    of    companions,    and    I 
imagine  of  husbands  ;  but  intoxicated  with  absinthe, 
curagao,  gin,  or  American  grogs,  he  became,  even 
with    his    best    friends,    disagreeable,    aggressive, 
quarrelsome,    in    short,    insupportable ;    and   if  he 
were  like  this  in   the  caf£s  one   can   imagine  his 

o 


210  PAUL  VERLAINE 

return  to  the  conjugal  hearth,  often  at  a  very  late 
hour,  after  final  solitary  drinks  when  he  had  quitted 
us. 

A  second  cause  of  misunderstandings  arose  from 
life  in  common  with  his  wife's  parents  in  the  little 
house  in  the  Rue  Nicolet.  A  third  cause,  resulting 
from  the  first  one,  was  the  cessation  of  his  duties  as 
clerk,  the  perpetual  holiday,  the  increased  facilities 
for  stationing  himself  in  cafes,  and  the  livelier 
temptation  to  pile  up  saucers  in  front  of  him, 
nothing  producing  thirst  like  drink. 

During  the  siege  and  the  Commune,  Verlaine 
and  his  wife  lived  in  an  apartment  with  a  balcony 
at  No.  2  Rue  du  Cardinal- Lemoine,  at  the  corner 
of  the  Quai  de  la  Tournelle  ;  but  believing  it  necessary 
in  consequence  of  what  happened  during  the  Com- 
mune to  relinquish  his  employment,  and  as  it  were, 
hide  himself,  he  took  her  back  to  the  little  house 
belonging  to  her  parents  M.  and  Mme.  Haute"  de 
Fleurville,  No.  15  Rue  Nicolet,  at  the  foot  of  the 
hills  of  Montmartre,  close  to  the  Rue  Ramey. 

We  have  already  pointed  out  that  Verlaine's 
political  and  judicial  apprehensions  were  exaggerated 
and  without  foundation.  He  had  taken  no  part  in 
the  insurrection ;  he  was  guilty  merely  of  having 
remained  at  the  H6tel-de-Ville  instead  of  rejoining 
M.  Thiers  at  Versailles.  He  was  the  object  of  no 
enquiry,  no  investigation.  It  might  have  been  sup- 
posed that  at  this  period  of  merciless  repression  and 
general  suspicion  Verlaine's  absence  from  his  office, 
when  order  was  re-established,  would  be  regarded 
as  an  admission  of  guilt ;  nothing  of  the  kind,  and 
Verlaine  did  not  take  flight.  He  did  not  abandon 
his  usual  haunts ;  he  went  with  the  same  frequency 


THE  RUPTURE  211 

to  see  his  mother  in  the  Rue  Le"cluse,  where  he 
might  easily  have  been  surprised  if  his  retreat 
in  the  Rue  Nicolet  was  unknown  to  the  police. 
But  no  notice  was  taken  of  him ;  so  inoffensive  a 
subordinate  was  not  considered  worth  pursuing. 

He  had  taken  alarm  too  easily;  perhaps,  at 
bottom,  he  wanted  to  take  advantage  of  circum- 
stances. A  little  tired  of  servitude,  however  light, 
of  the  office,  aspiring  after  independence,  which, 
truly,  is  favourable  to  poetic  inspiration,  doubtless 
he  did  not  regret  the  political  pretext  which  per- 
mitted him  to  return  no  more  to  the  H6tel-de- 
Ville. 

The  desire  to  conceal  himself  by  changing  his 
quarters,  and  also  the  necessity  of  reducing  expenses 
by  cutting  off  the  rent  of  an  apartment  of  1,500  francs, 
in  order  to  compensate  for  the  loss  of  his  official 
salary,  led  him  to  the  Rue  Nicolet.  Life  in  common 
with  his  wife's  parents  had  this  inconvenience  that 
Verlaine's  Bacchic  entrances,  unperceived  or  un- 
noted in  a  separate  abode,  now  had  witnesses, 
naturally  intolerant.  The  quarrels  with  the  wife 
which  ensued  furnished  the  father  and  mother,  sup- 
porting and  pitying  their  daughter,  with  grievances, 
which,  accumulating,  required  but  the  classic  last 
drop  of  water,  to  make  the  cup  of  conjugal 
happiness  spill  over. 

The  climax  occurred  about  the  month  of  October 
1871,  when  an  element  of  discord  was  introduced 
into  the  household  :  Arthur  Rimbaud,  fatal  guest, 
evil  genius,  knocked  at  the  door  of  the  house  in  the 
Rue  Nicolet,  and,  unmindful  of  evil,  it  was  opened  to 
him.  There  are  moments  in  life  when  a  destiny  is 
completely  altered,  an  existence,  perhaps  more  than 


212  PAUL   VERLAINE 

one,  completely  disorganised  and  spoiled  by  the 
chance  arrival  of  some  person,  who  unknown  the 
day  before  at  once  assumes  an  excessive  importance, 
exercises  a  most  baleful  influence  without  any  pre- 
sentiment having  forewarned  the  victim.  Such 
ills  one  is  powerless  to  avert. 

Arthur  Rimbaud  played  too  important  a  part  in 
Verlaine's  life  for  us  to  pass  him  over  without  giving 
some  details  of  his  career.  He  was  an  Ardennais, 
and  consequently  a  compatriot  of  Verlaine's.  He 
was  born  at  Charleville,  where  his  mother  lived 
with  her  father  Nicolas  Knief,  on  the  2oth  October 
1854.  His  family  had  originally  come  from  the 
south,  and  his  father,  like  Verlaine's,  had  been 
a  captain,  but  in  the  infantry.  Young  Rimbaud 
attended  the  local  grammar  school,  and  was  quite 
a  satisfactory  pupil,  particularly  in  Latin ;  he  won 
several  prizes,  notably  that  for  Latin  verse.  His 
was  a  precocious,  inventive  intelligence,  which  his 
masters  termed  fertile.  For  this  he  obtained  praise 
which  stimulated  his  already  active  vanity.  He 
soon  took  to  literature,  and  composed  while  still 
at  school  several  bizarre  poems  which  were  after- 
wards published  and  admired  :  Les  Premieres  Com- 
munions, Le  Bal  des  Pendus,  etc.  While  still  very 
young  he  manifested  revolutionary  and  atheistic 
sentiments,  for  his  were  the  talents  of  a  satiric  poet, 
and  the  disordered  aspirations  of  an  anarchist. 

During  the  German  war,  on  the  day  after 
Sedan,  impelled  by  the  vagrant  spirit  which  was 
later  to  drive  him  to  Harrar  and  Ethiopia,  he  sold 
the  books  he  had  received  as  prizes,  and  thus 
furnished  with  money,  set  his  face  towards  Paris, 
but  with  a  naive  and  clumsy  cunning,  desirous  of 


ARTHUR   RIMBAUD  21 S 

economising  his  slender  resources,  and  supposing 
that  he  would  be  able  to  slip  out  of  the  train 
unperceived  on  arrival,  he  only  took  a  ticket  for 
the  first  station  after  Charleville,  accomplishing 
the  rest  of  the  journey  without  one. 

At  the  Gare  de  1'Est  he  was  stopped  as  a  traveller 
without  a  ticket,  and  was  found  to  be  without  refer- 
ences or  papers ;  having  indeed  all  the  appearance 
of  a  boy  escaped  from  a  reformatory.  Accordingly 
he  was  taken  to  the  Depot,  but,  sullen  and  con- 
temptuous, he  refused  to  answer  any  questions  as 
to  his  origin,  means,  or  the  motives  which  had 
impelled  him  to  take  the  train  and  escape  from 
some  place  or  authority  he  did  not  wish  to  reveal. 
His  secrecy  and  stealthy  glances  right  and  left 
caused  the  police  to  regard  him  with  suspicion  ;  he 
was  retained  and  sent  to  Mazas  with  open  instruc- 
tions. After  a  few  days  of  detention,  however,  he 
made  up  his  mind  to  give  the  name  of  one  of  his 
old  professors,  M.  Georges  Isambard  of  Douai. 
This  gentleman,  informed  by  the  authorities,  sent 
the  money  demanded  for  the  railway  ticket,  and 
Rimbaud  set  at  liberty  was  taken  back  to  the  station 
and  despatched  to  Douai,  for  it  was  impossible  for 
him  to  return  to  Charleville,  the  communications 
having  been  cut  off  by  the  Prussians. 

This  was  Rimbaud's  first  contact  with  Paris. 
Once  again  he  escaped  from  his  parents,  and  went 
to  Charleroi  with  the  idea  of  joining  the  staff  of  a 
newspaper  in  that  town  ;  but  he  was  not  accepted. 
It  must  be  said  that  his  appearance,  that  of  a 
vicious  and  sickly  boy,  was  hardly  prepossessing, 
and  the  editor  of  the  journal  could  not  believe 
that  such  a  troublesome  vagabond  was  likely  to 


214  PAUL  VERLAINE 

prove  of  any  service.  Rimbaud  therefore  returned 
home,  where  he  remained  quietly  until  the  end  of 
October  1870.  During  this  period  he  composed 
several  poems,  among  others  Les  Effards  and  Le 
Cabaret  Vert.  He  had  some  correspondence  with 
a  friend,  M.  Delahaye,  who  knew  Verlaine.  Soon 
the  desire  to  go  to  Paris  reawakened  in  him,  but 
he  knew  that  the  Germans  surrounded  the  capital 
with  an  iron  ring,  and  the  fear  of  not  being  able 
to  break  through  it,  kept  him  for  some  time  longer 
in  his  native  town.  He  inveighed  against  the  war 
and  against  the  Parisians  for  the  resistance  which 
upset  his  plans.  He  avidly  demanded  news, 
keeping  himself  informed  every  day  at  the  Hotel- 
de-Ville,  or  in  the  cafes,  of  the  progress  of  the 
invasion.  He  declaimed  against  the  length  of  the 
siege,  and  considered  the  defence  absurd  and  use- 
less. He  said  that  in  the  besieged  city  all  thought 
was  for  food,  and  no  notice  was  taken  of  poetry. 
"  Paris  is  nothing  but  a  stomach !  "  he  asserted. 

The  gifted  urchin  gave  proof  of  an  extraordinary 
force  of  resistance  and  proud  self  -  confidence. 
Before  leaving  Charleville  he  addressed  to  M. 
Isambard,  who  had  rescued  him  on  the  occasion 
of  his  first  escapade,  a  sort  of  profession  of  faith 
which  he  called  the  Litter aturicide  (Tun  rhttoricien 
emancipe'. 

He  declared  himself  absolutely  disgusted  by 
all  existing  poetry,  past  or  present.  Racine,  peuh  ! 
Victor  Hugo,  pouah  !  Homer,  ...  oh !  lala  /  .  .  . 
The  Parnassian  school  diverted  him  for  a  moment, 
but  pfuitt!  he  could  not  speak  of  it  afterwards 
without  rancour.  Verlaine  alone,  whom  *he  had 
never  seen,  but  whose  Poemes  Saturniens  he  had 


ARTHUR   RIMBAUD  215 

read,  found  favour  in  his  eyes.  Apart  from  this 
poet  he  admired  no  one  under  the  sun,  and  believed 
only  in  himself. 

Rimbaud  took  leave  of  his  family  to  go  to  Paris 
in  February  1871,  and  arrived  at  Andre*  Gill's. 
Why  ?  Perhaps  because  on  the  way  his  eyes  had 
happened  to  fall  on  some  caricature  of  the  cele- 
brated artist's.  He  walked  into  Gill's  with  amazing 
effrontery.  Cool  audacity  and  disdain  for  conven- 
tions of  any  kind  was  one  of  his  most  salient 
characteristics.  The  artist  was  absent  from  his 
studio,  and  with  his  usual  trustfulness  had  left  the 
key  in  the  door.  When  he  returned  he  stopped 
on  the  threshold  rather  surprised  to  find  an  unknown 
guest  stretched  upon  the  divan  and  snoring  vigor- 
ously ;  but  it  was  only  a  boy,  and  no  thought  of 
evil  intent  entered  his  head.  He  shook  the  sleeper 
and  asked  :  "  What  are  you  doing  here  ?  Who  are 
you  ?  "  Arthur  Rimbaud  gave  his  name,  said  he 
lived  at  Charleville,  and  that  he  was  a  poet  who 
had  come  to  take  Paris  by  storm,  adding  as  he 
rubbed  his  eyes  that  he  regretted  having  been 
awakened  so  soon  as  he  was  having  delightful 
dreams.  "  I,  too,"  responded  Gill  with  his  usual 
jovial  good  nature  "  have  fine  dreams ;  but  I  have 
them  at  home!"  The  sleeper  excused  himself: 
he  was  a  poor  youth,  a  solitary  rhymer,  a  lost 
child.  Gill  had  a  kind  heart  and  felt  sorry  for 
him,  but  could  hold  out  no  hopes  of  anything 
being  done  for  a  poet  in  Paris.  He  gave  him 
ten  francs,  all  the  money  he  happened  to  have, 
and  urged  him  to  return  home. 

Pocketing  the  ten  francs,  but  disregarding  the 
advice,  Rimbaud  began  to  wander  about  the  town 


216  PAUL  VERLAINE 

\ 
with  anger  against  everything  and  every  one  in  his 

heart,  yet  guided  by  the  ardent  desire  to  publish,  to 
speak  to  men,  to  aim  a  resounding  blow  at  public 
opinion,  to  make  himself  known,  to  move  the 
great  indifferent,  deaf,  hostile  town.  At  last, 
tired  physically  and  morally,  his  stomach  empty, 
recognising  that  the  reality  was  too  much  for  him, 
and  resigning  himself  to  Fate,  he  decided  to  return 
to  Charleville  on  foot,  by  easy  stages,  traversing 
the  localities  where  the  Germans  were  encamped. 

With  the  low  cunning,  bordering  on  dishonesty, 
of  which  he  gave  many  proofs  during  his  life,  and 
which,  doubtless,  served  him  in  his  business  deal- 
ings with  the  Ethiopians,  he  passed  himself  off  as 
a  franc  -  tireur  in  the  villages  through  which  he 
passed,  thus  often  securing  sympathy,  food,  and 
lodgings — sometimes  money.  When  the  country 
people  turned  a  deaf  ear,  for  fae  franc -tireur s  were 
not  popular  everywhere,  and  some  feared  to  provoke 
reprisals  by  sheltering  those  whom  the  enemy  had 
placed  outside  the  laws  of  war,  Rimbaud  audaciously 
applied  to  the  mayor,  and  exacted  lodging  and  food. 

After  this  return  to  Charleville  he  only  remained 
two  months  with  his  parents,  and  then  for  the  third 
time,  in  May  1871,  he  took  the  road  to  Paris  on  foot 
once  more,  through  the  German  lines  scattered  over 
the  country.  On  the  outskirts  of  Villers-Cotterets 
he  nearly  fell  into  the  hands  of  a  patrol  of  Uhlans, 
but  saved  himself  by  diving  into  a  thicket. 

He  found  Paris  in  a  hubbub  of  insurrection  ; 
presenting  himself  at  the  gates,  he  declared  that 
he  had  come  from  the  country,  that  he  was  heart 
and  soul  with  the  Communists,  and  wished  to  join 
them.  The  franc-tireur  became  for  the  time  being 


ARTHUR   RIMBAUD  217 

a  federate.  He  was  received  with  enthusiasm ; 
but  as  the  insurrection  was  nearing  its  end  he  was 
neither  equipped  nor  armed.  He  lodged  in  the 
Babylone  barracks  ;  but  escaped  in  time  some  days 
before  the  arrival  of  the  troops  from  Versailles. 

Traversing  anew  the  German  lines,  he  returned 
to  Charleville,  composing  strange  verses  as  he  went 
along ;  among  others  an  ode  entitled  L'Orgie 
Parisienne,  a  recollection  of  his  experiences  in  the 
ranks  of  the  insurgents.  This  time  he  remained 
four  months  at  Charleville,  writing  verse  and  prose 
poems,  and  exciting  the  indignation  of  the  towns- 
folk by  his  reckless  appearance  and  behaviour.  He 
made  the  acquaintance  at  this  time  of  a  certain 
Breton,  a  friend  of  Verlaine's.  This  fellow  was 
a  "  rat  de  cave,"  i.e.,  a  clerk  in  the  Customs. 
Verlaine  designated  him  as  a  very  good  fellow, 
a  great  beer-drinker,  at  times  a  poet,  musician, 
draughtsman,  and  entomologist.  This  Breton, 
who  was  an  obscure  fantasist,  making,  essentially 
whimsical  verses,  was  unequalled,  it  was  said,  in 
the  way  in  which  he  drew  up  the  most  detailed  and 
accurate  statements  of  frauds  on  the  part  of  sugar 
manufacturers. 

It  was  at  Charleville,  in  1871,  that  Rimbaud 
composed  the  poem  which  caused  him  to  be 
recognised  as  a  poet  on  his  next  arrival  in  Paris. 
It  was  a  fine  thing,  despite  its  strangeness :  Le 
Bateau  Ivre. 

Haunted  continually  by  the  desire  to  return  to 
Paris,  he  wrote  to  Verlaine,  the  only  poet  living, 
whom,  as  we  have  said,  he  admired,  and  sent  him 
the  poem. 

Verlaine,  surprised  and  perhaps  flattered  by  this 


218  PAUL  VERLAINE 

exceptional  admiration  on  the  part  of  a  beardless 
novice  who  professed  universal  disdain  even  for 
the  most  brilliant  and  indisputable  geniuses,  and 
struck  by  the  originality  of  the  specimen  verses 
submitted  to  him,  sent  a  letter  of  encouragement, 
enclosing  a  post-office  order  to  the  youth ;  at  the 
same  time  warning  some  of  his  friends  of  the 
approaching  arrival  of  a  young  prodigy  "  who  will 
put  all  our  noses  out  of  joint." 

The  phenomenon  was  awaited  with  rather 
sceptical  curiosity.  Verlaine  had  offered  him 
hospitality.  "Come  beloved  great  soul,"  he 
wrote,  "  we  await  you  and  want  you." 

It  was  not  in  his  own  house,  but  in  his  father-in- 
law's,  that  Verlaine  thus  granted  board  and  lodging 
to  this  vagabond  of  letters.  M.  Maut£  was  absent  at 
the  time,  but  his  wife  and  young  Madame  Verlaine 
having  been  prejudiced  beforehand  in  favour  of  the 
mysterious  guest,  received  him  kindly.  It  was  not 
long,  however,  before  they  regarded  him  very 
differently,  with  angry  eyes  and  twitching  hands. 
The  first  impression  was  certainly  disconcerting. 
Verlaine  himself,  ready  as  he  was  to  be  enthusiastic 
over  the  author  of  the  Assis  and  Le  Bateau  Ivre, 
could  not  restrain  a  movement  of  surprise  when  he 
caught  sight  of  the  pale,  beardless,  meagre  boy  in 
place  of  the  grown  man  he  had  expected  to  meet. 
The  second  impression  was  not  much  better,  except 
in  the  case  of  Verlaine,  who  soon  recovered  from 
the  first  shock.  They  seated  themselves  at  table, 
and  Rimbaud  ate  voraciously  without  uttering  a 
single  word,  except  to  reply  with  an  air  of  fatigue 
to  the  questions  which  the  ladies  put  to  him  regard- 
ing his  journey  and  life  at  Charleville.  He  did  not 


ARTHUR  RIMBAUD  219 

condescend  to  furnish  any  details  regarding  the 
composition  of  his  poems  to  a  guest,  Charles  Cros, 
who  questioned  him  amiably  on  the  subject.  The 
last  mouthful  swallowed,  Rimbaud  pleaded  fatigue, 
lighted  a  pipe,  and  with  a  "good-night,"  retired  to 
bed. 

He  showed  himself  equally  uncouth,  taciturn, 
and  unsociable  on  the  following  days ;  so  much  so, 
in  fact,  that  Verlaine  was  asked  to  send  away  his 
young  prottgt.  M.  Maut6  was  about  to  return, 
and  he  would  not  be  able  to  support  the  presence 
in  his  house  of  the  ill-bred,  disagreeable  youth.  It 
was  agreed  that  Rimbaud  should  go  and  lodge 
with  some  friends  of  Verlaine's  and  await  events. 
Banville,  among  others,  took  him  in  for  a  time,  and 
then  Madame  Banville  bought  a  bed  for  him  which 
was  placed  in  Charles  Cros's  laboratory.  In  this 
way  he  slept  successively  in  the  quarters  of  a 
number  of  hospitable  and  generous  artists  and 
poets,  who  had  barely  room  for  themselves.  They 
clubbed  together  to  enable  him  to  live.  He 
received  three  francs  a  day  to  allow  him  to  devote 
himself  to  art  independent  of  money.  He  was 
always  in  the  cafes  in  company  with  Verlaine,  and 
his  labours  chiefly  consisted  in  digesting  food  and 
absorbing  drink,  for  he  ate  like  an  ogre  and  drank 
like  a  templar. 

Proud  of  his  prodigy  Verlaine  displayed  him 
everywhere,  extolling,  eulogising,  and  exciting  his 
nervous  vanity.  Victor  Hugo,  to  whom  he  was 
introduced  as  a  direct  successor,  greeted  him  with 
his  grave  beneficent  irony  as  a  "  child  Shakespeare." 
The  master  did  not  mean  what  he  said,  but  he  loved 
to  lavish  hyperboles  of  eulogy  and  prognostication 


220  PAUL   VERLAINE 

on  the  beginner  whom  he  wished  to  number  among 
his  disciples. 

Verlaine,  becoming  more  and  more  wrapped  up 
in  his  companion,  obtained  his  inclusion  in  Fantin- 
Latour's  Coin  de  Table,  a  picture  exhibited  in  the 
Salon  of  1892,  which  displayed  the  physiognomies  of 
poets  and  writers  in  the  dawn  of  fame,  viz.  :  MM. 
Jean  Aicard,  Le*on  Valade,  Emile  Ble'mont,  Pierre 
Elze'ar,  Bonnier-Ortolan,  Ernest  d'Hervilly,  Camille 
Pelletan,  Verlaine,  and  Rimbaud.  This  picture  is 
now  in  the  possession  of  M.  Emile  Element. 

The  youthful  prodigy,  however,  was  scarcely  a 
success  in  Paris.  In  the  first  place  he  drank  and 
gave  up  making  verses.  His  contemptuous  silence 
and  arrogant  airs  wearied  the  kindest  -  hearted. 
Two  of  his  biographers,  MM.  Jean  Bourguignon 
and  Charles  Houin,  who  published  in  the  Revue 
d'Ardenne  et  d'Argonney  January- February  1897, 
a  very  interesting  and  detailed  article  on  Rimbaud, 
could  not  conceal  what  a  failure  the  great  man  of 
Charleville  was  in  Paris  : 

"In  the  midst  of  the  literary  and  artistic  world 
Rimbaud  led  the  strange  abnormal  existence  of  a 
drunken  visionary.  He  systematically  intoxicated 
himself  with  alcohol,  haschish,  and  tobacco ;  he 
experienced  the  sensations  of  insomnia  and  sleep- 
walking ;  he  lived  in  a  waking  dream,  possessed 
by  fancies  and  inward  visions.  This  period  was  not 
fertile  in  verse.  .  .  .  Except  for  some  enthusiasts 
the  majority  of  those  who  were  frequently  in  his 
company  neither  understood  nor  comprehended  him, 
and  were  completely  in  the  dark  as  to  his  person- 
ality. His  ways,  his  attitudes,  his  conversation 
astonished,  disquieted,  stupefied  and  frightened  a 
number  of  people  who  saw  in  the  poet  an  '  insuffer- 


ARTHUR  RIMBAUD  221 

able  coxcomb ' — and  something  worse.  ...  In  this 
literary  and  artistic  world  where  are  to  be  found 
in  greater  prominence  than  anywhere  else  vanity, 
raillery,  the  tone  of  authority,  and  the  care  of 
individuality,  Rimbaud  did  not  bend  his  spirit  of 
perfect  independence,  nor  modify  his  tenacious, 
self-willed  yet  timid  character,  in  which  a  strain 
of  cold  calculation  mingled  with  a  natural  and 
delicate  sensibility.  For  the  majority  he  was  an 
enigmatic  visitant  who  aroused  contempt  and  jealous 
suspicion,  and  left  behind  him  a  recollection  of 
ambiguous  and  contradictory  stories.  This  seems  to 
be  the  explanation  of  what  might  be  called  Arthur 
Rimbaud's  moral  defeat  in  Parisian  life." 

Rimbaud's  unsatisfied  vanity,  consciousness  that 
he  had  not  caught  the  Parisian  fancy,  and  con- 
viction that  the  impression  he  had  made  was  of 
the  slightest  and  easily  effaced,  made  him  leave  the 
capital  abruptly,  in  revolt  against  its  domination. 
An  adventure  in  a  wine-shop  doubtless  contributed 
to  hasten  his  departure. 

It  was  our  custom  at  that  time  to  assist 
at  a  sort  of  co-operative  repast  given  by  the 
Parnassians,  and  the  frequenters  of  the  Salons 
Ricard  and  Nina  and  Lemerre's  bookshop.  We 
met  once  a  month  to  dine  and  talk  literature. 
Several  outsiders,  less  advanced  than  ourselves,  but 
already  more  or  less  famous,  came  from  time  to 
time.  Poems  were  recited  and  readings  given  ; 
Richepin's  Chanson  des  Gueux  and  L'Etoile  were 
thus  heard  for  the  first  time.  We  called  our- 
selves Les  Vilains  Bonshommes,  which  title  arose 
out  of  an  article  by  Victor  Cochinat  in  which  he 
thus  contemptuously  designated  us,  and  defiantly 
we  retained  it.  The  dinner  was  held  at  various 


222  PAUL   VERLAINE 

restaurants  on  the  left  bank,  often  at  a  wine-shop 
at  the  corner  of  the  Rue  de  Seine.  The  mdnus 
were  illustrated.  One  of  them  which  I  have  pre- 
served represents  the  back  view  of  a  nude  figure, 
a  Venus  Callipyge  holding  a  tablet  on  which  is 
inscribed  "Sonnets."  At  the  foot  of  the  drawing 
is  written  :  "  Invitation  to  the  dinner  of  the  Vilains 
Bonshommes."  The  drawing  was  always  by  a 
clever  artist :  Regamey,  Forain,  and  Bracquemond 
designed  several  of  these  dinner  cards. 

At  one  of  these  dinners,  to  which  naturally 
Verlaine  had  taken  Rimbaud,  an  altercation  arose 
during  the  reading  of  poems  which  terminated  the 
repast.  Rimbaud  having  gone  so  far  as  to  talk 
aloud,  and  laugh  scornfully  during  the  declamation 
of  a  poem,  which  doubtless  did  not  correspond  with 
his  code  of  aesthetics,  the  excellent  Etienne  Carjat 
who  happened  to  be  present  and  showed  great 
admiration  for  the  poet  reading  his  verses,  Jean 
Aicard,  imposed  silence  on  the  young  disturber, 
and  as  Rimbaud  answered  insolently  that  he  should 
talk  if  he  pleased,  Carjat  said  to  him  :  "  Brat,  if 
you  are  not  silent  I  shall  pull  your  ears ! "  There- 
upon the  youth,  furious,  ran  to  a  corner  of  the 
dining-room  and  swiftly  armed  himself  with  the 
sword-stick  which  Verlaine  always  carried  at  this 
period,  and  which  more  than  once  nearly  occasioned 
disaster.  Rimbaud  then  rushed  towards  Carjat,  and 
we  had  all  the  trouble  in  the  world  to  disarm  him, 
Carjat  even  being  slightly  wounded  in  the  hand. 
Rimbaud  was  handed  over  to  a  young  painter,  a 
splendid  fair  young  artist,  Michel  de  I1  Hay,  nick- 
named "  Pe*nutet,"  who  led  him  away  to  sleep  off 
his  drunkenness  in  the  tranquillity  of  the  painter's 


ARTHUR   RIMBAUD  223 

studio.  The  insult  produced  a  bad  effect.  The 
gentle  Valade,  Albert  Me>at,  and  other  peaceable 
poets,  decided  that  Rimbaud  should  not  again  be 
invited  to  the  Vilains  Bonshommes.  If  Verlaine 
liked  to  come  he  would  be  always  welcomed  at  the 
friendly  gathering,  but  he  must  not  bring  with  him 
the  intolerable  boy,  who  supported  so  ill  both  wine 
and  poems  which  were  not  his. 

Verlaine  showed  great  vexation  at   Rimbaud's 
exclusion  ;  he  attributed  it  to  a  supposition  which 
had  not   then  entered   any  one's  head.     This  was 
certainly  the  beginning  of  his  voluntary  separation 
from  the  friends  of  his  youth,  and  the  rupture  which 
was  never  to  be  healed.     Rimbaud  was  not,  it  is 
true,    a    very   agreeable    companion.      To    please 
Verlaine  I  once  invited  him  to  my  house  in   the 
Rue  Le"cluse  at  Batignolles,  and  it  required  all  my 
energy  to  keep  him  in  order.     In  the  first  place,  he 
did  not  open  his  mouth  at  the  beginning  of  the 
meal  except  to  ask  for  bread  or  wine,  in  the  tone 
he  would  have  used  at  an  hotel ;  and  then,  at  the 
end,  under  the  influence  of  a  heady  Burgundy  to 
which   Verlaine   helped   him   liberally,   he   became 
aggressive.     He  launched  out  into  provoking  para- 
doxes,  and  aphorisms  intended  to  arouse   contra- 
diction.      His    chief    pleasantry   was    to    call    me 
"saluter   of  the  dead,"   because  he  had  seen   me 
raise  my  hat  when  meeting  a  funeral.     As  I  had 
lost  my  mother  only  two  months  before,  I  ordered 
him  to  be  silent  on  that  subject,  and  looked  at  him 
in  a  way  which  he  took  in  bad  part,  rising  to  his 
feet  and  advancing  threateningly  towards  me.     He 
seized  a  dessert  knife  in  foolish   nervous  fashion, 
probably  with  the  intention  of  using  it  as  a  weapon. 


284  PAUL   VERLAINE 

I  put  my  hand  on  his  shoulder  and  forced  him  to 
sit  down,  telling  him  that  I  went  out  to  make  war, 
and  not  having  been  afraid  of  the  Prussians  it  was 
hardly  likely  a  ragamuffin  like  him  would  intimidate 
me.  I  added  half  jokingly  that  if  he  were  not 
satisfied  and  persisted  in  quarrelling,  I  would  help 
him  downstairs  with  a  few  kicks  at  the  back. 
Verlaine  interposed,  begging  me  not  to  get  angry, 
and  excusing  his  friend ;  and  Rimbaud,  doubtless 
profiting  by  the  lesson,  was  silent  until  the  end  of 
the  repast,  contenting  himself  with  drinking  deeply, 
and  surrounding  himself  with  smoke,  while  Verlaine 
recited  some  poems. 

I  only  saw  Rimbaud  once  or  twice  after  this, 
but  I  know  he  did  not  bear  me  any  good- will.  He 
affected  ironically  when  speaking  of  me  the  use 
of  such  terms  as  "  saluter  of  the  dead,"  "  ancient 
troubadour,"  and  "voider  of  copy."  This  was 
quite  inoffensive,  and  I  bore  him  no  ill-will,  even 
writing  afterwards,  when  there  was  talk  of  raising 
a  monument  to  him  at  Charleville,  some  articles 
rendering  homage  to  his  talent,  which  was  genuine 
and  great.  At  the  same  time  I  acknowledged  his 
tenacity  and  energy  as  an  explorer,  and  expressed 
pity  for  the  sufferings  of  the  last  years  of  his  life, 
and  his  wholly  distressing  death  in  the  hospital  at 
Marseilles. 

To  resume  the  history  of  Arthur  Rimbaud,  he 
left  Paris,  as  I  said,  far  from  enthusiastic,  and  the 
disdain  perhaps  mingled  with  discouragement  that 
he  felt  for  the  inhospitable  literary  world  sowed 
in  his  mind  the  idea  of  changing  both  climate  and 
life.  He  already  began  to  think  of  renouncing  art, 
poetry,  and  dreams  for  travel,  commerce,  and  action. 


ARTHUR   RIMBAUD  225 

He  continued  to  correspond  with  Paul  Verlaine, 
who,  as  we  shall  see  later  on,  rejoined  him,  and 
travelled  in  his  company.  Quarrels  followed,  then 
the  accident  of  the  pistol  shot,  and  at  last  the 
definite  and  final  separation  of  the  two  friends. 
They  never  met  again  after  the  tragic  day  in  July 

1873., 

Rimbaud,  having  returned  to  his  mother  to  be 
waited  on  and  spoilt,  wrote  in  the  tranquillity  of  Les 
Roches,  near  Charleville,  his  bizarre  and  vigorous 
work  Une  Saison  en  Enfer.  This  little  book  was 
printed  in  Brussels ;  but  hardly  had  the  volume 
come  from  the  press  than  he  threw  it  into  the  fire. 
Only  three  copies  were  saved.  Exaggeration  of 
the  outward  vision,  false  colouring  of  impressions, 
the  blending  of  the  real  and  the  unreal  and  undue 
obtrusion  of  personality,  which  were  Arthur  Rim- 
baud's chief  characteristics,  were  more  marked  in 
Une  Saison  en  Enfer  than  in  any  other  of  his  poems, 
satires,  caricatures,  and  parodies.  At  the  moment  of 
writing  I  have  in  my  possession  Paul  Verlaine's  copy 
lent  by  his  son  Georges.  It  is  printed  in  clear,  fine 
characters  :  format  small  in-i8,  fifty-three  pages,  and 
on  the  grey  cover  is :  "  A.  Rimbaud "  (in  black 
at  the  top)  "  Une  Saison  en  Enfer"  (two  lines  in  red 
in  the  centre  of  the  page).  A  little  below  in  rather 
large  black  lettering  between  two  waved  lines  is  : 
"  Prix  un  Franc."  In  three  lines  in  black  at  the  foot : 
11  Bruxelles,  alliance  typographique  (M.  de  Poot 
et  Cie)  37,  Rue  aux  Choux,  37  " ;  and  beneath  the 
date  of  publication:  "1873."  The  cover  has  a 
frame  of  thin  black  lines.  The  volume  opens  with 
a  sort  of  preface,  having  no  title,  which  begins  with 
these  words  : 


226  PAUL   VERLAINE 

11  Formerly,  if  I  remember  aright,  my  life  was 
a  banquet  at  which  all  wines  flowed,  and  all  hearts 
were  opened. 

"  One  evening,  I  seated  Beauty  upon  my  knees, 
and  I  found  her  bitter,  and  I  reviled  her. 

"  I  have  risen  up  against  Justice. 

"  I  have  fled.  Oh,  sorcerers,  oh,  misery,  oh, 
hatred!  It  is  to  you  that  my  treasure  has  been 
confided. 

"  I  have  succeeded  in  banishing  from  my  mind 
all  human  hope.  To  strangle  all  joy  I  have  sprung 
upon  it  like  a  ferocious  beast. 

"  I  have  called  upon  the  executioners  to  beat 
me  to  death  with  the  butt  ends  of  their  guns.  I 
have  called  upon  the  plagues  to  stifle  me  with 
sand  and  blood.  Misfortune  has  been  my  god. 
I  have  stretched  myself  in  the  mud.  I  am  dried 
up  in  the  atmosphere  of  crime.  And  I  have 
played  hide-and-seek  with  madness. 

"  And  the  spring  -  time  has  brought  me  the 
ghastly  laugh  of  the  idiot.  ..." 

All  this  certainly  lacks  coherence,  order,  and 
sequence ;  it  is  the  triumph  of  the  anacoluthpn. 
From  it  may  be  seen  that  Arthur  Rimbaud  was 
a  precursor. 

This  singular  introduction  concluded  with  an 
invocation  to  Satan,  quite  in  the  style  of  Baudelaire 
and  Prudhomme.  Rimbaud,  who  did  not  lack  a 
certain  summary  of  erudition,  probably  took  his 
Satanic  doctrine  from  certain  theological  books,  deal- 
ing with  a  sect  called  the  Luciferians  who  existed  in 
Germany  in  the  thirteenth  century.  They  adored 
the  fallen  angel,  vanquished  by  Heaven,  who 
symbolised  humanity  struck  down,  tortured  and 
cursed  by  the  implacable  Divinity.  The  romantic 


ARTHUR   RIMBAUD  227 

preface  is  followed  by  short  rambling  digressions 
in  nervous,  highly-coloured  prose,  interlarded  with 
poetical  fragments.  The  titles  are  often  of  the 
diabolical  order :  Mauvais  Sang,  Nuit  de  FEnfer, 
D  Mires,  Vierge  Folle,  L*  Epoux  Infernal,  UAlchimie 
du  Verbe,  L?  Impossible,  L?  EC  lair,  Matin,  Adieu, 
In  Mauvais  Sang  the  author  begins  : 

"  I  have  received  from  my  Gaelic  ancestors  my 
pale  blue  eyes,  narrow  brain,  and  awkwardness  in 
warfare ;  my  clothes  are  as  barbarous  as  theirs. 
But  I  do  not  grease  my  hair.  .  .  . 

"  From  them  I  have  received  my  idolatry  and 
love  of  sacrilege  .  .  . 

"  Oh !  every  vice,  wrath,  licentiousness  — 
splendid  licentiousness — and  especially  deceit  and 
idleness.  .  .  . 

"  I  have  a  horror  of  every  kind  of  work.  ..." 

The  young  man  boasted  overmuch.  He  was 
not  so  vicious  as  he  wished  to  appear.  He  did 
not  hold  work  in  such  horror,  seeing  that  he  chose 
the  hard  calling  of  camel-driver  and  purveyor  of 
negroes  in  Harrar,  Arabia,  and  Ethiopia.  Later 
on  he  cries  out  in  a  sort  of  profession  of  demoniac 
belief: 

"  Priests,  professors,  masters,  you  err  in  deliver- 
ing me  over  to  Justice.  I  have  never  been  a 
Christian.  I  belong  to  a  race  who  sing  while  they 
suffer ;  I  know  no  laws ;  I  have  no  moral  sense  ; 
I  am  a  brute :  you  deceive  yourselves.  Yes,  my 
eyes  are  closed  to  your  light.  I  am  a  beast,  a 
negro.  But  I  can  be  deaf.  You  are  not  true 
negroes,  you  ferocious,  miserly  Moors.  Merchant, 
you  are  a  negro ;  magistrate,  you  are  a  negro ; 
genius,  you  are  a  negro;  ..." 


228  PAUL  VERLAINE 

Evidently  the  ebony  he  was  afterwards  to 
become  acquainted  with  haunted  the  feverish 
brain  of  the  interesting  youth.  He  took  care  of 
his  skin,  in  spite  of  this  Magnificat  in  honour  of 
the  king  of  shadows:  "Am  I  an  old  maid  that 
I  should  fear  to  love  death?" 

Rimbaud  was  neurotic  and  hysterical  in  his 
youth,  but  not  to  any  great  extent,  being  sufficiently 
robust  to  undergo  a  speedy  reaction  and  become  a 
rough,  unsentimental  cultivator  of  reality.  When 
we  sing  of  sorrow,  we  no  longer  feel  it ;  when  we 
argue  about  our  madness,  it  is  past,  and  reason 
and  health  have  returned. 

"  To  me  the  story  of  my  follies ! "  cried 
Rimbaud,  and  he  narrated  how  he  loved  idiotic 
pictures,  decorations,  mountebanks'  tricks,  flags, 
posters,  out-of-date  literature,  Church  Latin,  ill- 
spelt,  erotic  books,  old  -  fashioned  novels,  fairy 
tales,  children's  books,  old  operas,  silly  choruses, 
simple  rhymes  ;  he  tells  how  he  invented  colours 
for  the  vowels :  a  black,  e  white,  i  red,  o  blue, 
u  green.  "  I  wrote  down  the  silences  of  night," 
he  said  again.  "  I  noted  the  inexpressible.  I 
fixed  vertigoes.  Many  old,  worn  -  out,  practical 
things  went  to  my  alchemy  of  words.  I  explain 
magical  sophisms  by  the  hallucination  of  words." 

In  this  last  formula  a  whole  future  school  of 
poetry  was  foretold,  founded,  greeted. 

The  destruction  of  the  book  Une  Saison  en 
Enfer  was  the  annihilation  of  Arthur  Rimbaud's 
existence  as  a  poet.  After  having  definitely 
broken  off  all  relations,  not  only  with  Paul 
Verlaine — he  refused  to  meet  and  even  to  receive 
the  poet,  who,  after  his  liberation  from  the  Belgian 


ARTHUR  RIMBAUD  229 

prison,  went  to  rejoin  him  at  Stuttgart,  where 
he  had  gone  to  learn  German — but  with  his  old 
friends  at  Charleville,  and  the  literary  world 
generally,  Rimbaud  began  a  new  life  of  travel 
and  adventure.  The  vagabond  in  him  survived 
the  poet,  voluntarily  killed.  Serving  his  apprentice- 
ship as  trader  and  explorer  at  a  distance,  Rimbaud 
set  himself  to  learn  German,  English,  Italian, 
Dutch,  Russian,  modern  Greek,  and  Arabic.  He 
travelled  over  nearly  the  whole  of  Europe,  and 
in  order  to  maintain  himself,  followed  the  most 
diverse,  and  often  the  hardest  and  most  anti- 
literary  callings :  he  was  successively,  like  an 
emigrant  in  a  new  world,  working-man,  labourer, 
professor,  interpreter,  clerk,  and  sailor.  He  ended 
by  establishing  himself  in  Cyprus,  where  he 
opened  a  branch  on  behalf  of  a  Marseilles  house, 
MM.  Bardey  &  Co.,  for  whom  he  travelled 
through  Arabia  and  Abyssinia,  and  opened 
another  branch  at  Harrar.  He  entered  into 
relations  with  the  Abyssinian  authorities,  with 
Makonnen,  and  even  with  Menelik,  and  M.  Fdix 
Faure,  then  Minister  of  the  Navy  and  the 
Colonies.  He  had  to  negotiate  diplomatically  for 
the  landing  at  Obock  of  the  plant  necessary  for 
the  manufacture  of  cartridges  for  the  King  of 
Abyssinia. 

Having  realised  a  certain  fortune  by  his  labours, 
he  made  up  his  mind  to  return  to  France  ;  it  is 
the  desire  of  every  traveller's  heart  to  go  back  to 
his  native  land.  He  met  with  an  unfortunate 
accident  while  riding,  and,  on  arrival  at  Marseilles 
he  was  obliged  to  go  into  hospital  and  have 
his  leg  amputated.  Afterwards  he  returned  to 


PAUL  VERLAINE 

Charleville,  suffering,  irritable,  and  helpless.  He 
soon  made  up  his  mind  to  set  out  again  for 
Abyssinia,  but  was  obliged  to  stop  at  Marseilles, 
where  he  died  in  the  hospital  of  the  Conception 
on  the  loth  November  1891,  aged  thirty-seven. 

His  death  passed  unnoticed.  His  name,  how- 
ever, was  no  longer  unknown.  Verlaine  had 
dedicated  a  eulogistic  article  to  him,  and  some 
quotations  from  his  strangest  verses  had  attracted 
attention.  The  sonnet  of  the  vowels  was  cele- 
brated ;  but  no  one  knew  what  had  become  of  the 
errant  poet.  His  poems  were  published  first  of 
all  by  M.  Rodolphe  Darzens  —  which  publication 
was  the  occasion  of  an  action  for  piracy  and  a 
seizure  —  then  M.  Paterne  Berrichon  took  them 
up.  The  latter,  who  had  married  the  poet's  sister, 
Mdlle.  Isabelle  Rimbaud,  also  published  a  com- 
plete biography  of  Rimbaud,  with  his  letters  from 
Abyssinia.  He  it  was  who  described  the  existence, 
so  long  unknown,  of  the  poet  adventurer,  enriched 
by  trading,  and  made  known  the  curious  ups  and 
downs  of  his  commercial  life  at  Harrar,  and  his 
tragic  end  in  the  Marseilles  hospital. 

Arthur  Rimbaud  played  a  decisive  and  fatal 
part  in  the  private  life  of  Paul  Verlaine.  He  was 
the  alleged  cause  of  Mme.  Verlaine's  departure, 
and  of  the  action  for  separation  ;  he  encouraged 
his  friend's  unfortunate  drunkenness  until  it  became 
dipsomania,  for  robust  and  able  to  resist  the  effects 
of  alcoholic  intoxication  as  he  was,  he  could  support 
doses  of  spirits  which  deranged  Verlaine's  more 
delicate  organism.  He  dragged  him  away  on 
journeys  and  aimless  wanderings.  He  was  the 
occasion  of  his  long  detention  in  Belgium.  He 


ARTHUR   RIMBAUD  231 

has  caused  him  to  be  suspected  of  unnatural 
passions  which,  brought  forward  in  the  action  for 
separation,  influenced  the  magistrates  to  pass  a 
sentence  afterwards  interpreted  as  a  divorce.  In 
the  minds  of  many  persons,  whether  informed  or 
ignorant  of  the  facts  hereafter  to  be  recorded  as 
they  actually  happened,  these  suppositions,  due 
to  Rimbaud's  continued  companionship,  still  persist 
and  tarnish  Verlaine's  memory. 

These  are  the  misdeeds,  unpunishable  by 
ordinary  laws,  of  this  vicious  and  gifted  scamp, 
who  ended  up  his  varied  career  as  an  energetic, 
active,  hard-working,  and  enterprising  man.  He 
had  a  most  malign  influence  over  poor,  weak 
Paul  Verlaine.  He  dominated,  bewitched,  and 
spoilt  his  life.  He  was  certainly  the  author  of 
all  the  wretchedness,  moral  and  physical,  which 
engulfed  Verlaine.  Did  he  render  him  any 
service  from  the  intellectual  point  of  view  ?  Did 
his  influence  affect  the  poet  of  the  Romances  sans 
Paroles'*  Was  Verlaine's  new  art  of  poetry  the 
result  of  intimacy  with  the  author  of  Le  Bateau 
Ivrel  I  do  not  think  so.  His  imprisonment, 
extraordinary  religious  conversion,  and  prolonged 
reflections  in  the  tranquillity  and  silence  of  his  cell, 
gave  opportunity  for  the  crystallisation  of  a  poetic 
theory  which  for  a  long  time  had  been  floating 
in  his  head,  modified  his  style,  and  endued  his 
verse  with  the  original  and  impressionistic  character 
which  differentiated  Sagesse  from  the  Poemes 
Saturniens. 

Rimbaud's  literary  influence  is  doubtful ;  but 
that  which  he  had  upon  Verlaine's  actions  and 
sentiments  is,  unfortunately,  only  too  apparent. 


CHAPTER  IX 

TRAVELS— LONDON  SKETCHES 
(1872-1873) 

THE  misunderstanding  between  the  young  couple 
had  grown,  and  after  frequent  violent  scenes  the 
poet  who  was,  moreover,  fearful  of  being  denounced 
as  having  participated  in  the  insurrection,  lent  an 
ear  to  the  more  and  more  imperious  suggestions 
of  his  adventurous  comrade,  Arthur  Rimbaud,  and 
meditated,  arranged,  and  realised  departure. 

In  the  beginning  there  was  no  question  of  a 
definite  rupture  sanctioned  by  law.  A  temporary 
separation  only  was  mentioned ;  apart,  the  couple 
would  recover  their  equanimity,  and  the  occasion 
of  their  quarrels  would  no  longer  exist.  They 
would  forget  the  exchange  of  unkind  words, 
reproaches,  invectives,  and  bitter  recriminations. 
Time  would  restore  peace  to  the  home,  the  wife's 
parents  said  aloud,  while  under  their  breath  they 
hoped  that  the  son-in-law,  once  he  had  gone, 
would  never  return.  It  already  entered  into  their 
calculations  that  their  daughter  would  live  happily 
with  them.  They  certainly  did  not  foresee  the 
solution  of  divorce  permitting  a  second  union,  a 
new  existence,  for  there  were  no  signs  of  the 
great  change  in  legislation,  and  the  voice  of 

232 


TRAVELS  233 

Naquet  had  not  yet  been  heard  ;  but  separation 
seemed  to  them  preferable  to  miserable  married 
life  for  their  child.  They  were  already  preparing 
material  for  a  case,  and  the  departure  of  their  son- 
in-law  was  too  favourable  to  their  secret  desires 
for  them  to  show  any  eagerness  to  retain  him. 

More  toleration  could  and  should  have  been 
used  in  dealing  with  Verlaine  with  his  nervous 
temperament,  fevered  by  alcoholic  excess.  He 
was  docile  and  manageable,  and  would  have 
allowed  himself  to  be  retained  and  led.  He  only 
asked  to  be  forgiven,  comforted,  consoled,  and 
cared  for ;  though  there  would  have  been  need, 
doubtless,  of  great  indulgence  and  multiplied 
forgiveness. 

Two  persons  acted  upon  him — his  mother  and 
his  wife.  His  mother,  too  indulgent  towards  her 
son's  errors,  annoyed  with  her  daughter-in-law's 
parents,  whom  she  reproached  with  having  been 
too  zealous  in  the  interests  of  the  bride  at  the 
time  of  the  marriage  settlements,  did  not  interpose 
at  all  energetically,  and  consented  to  the  departure 
of  her  son.  She  even  furnished  him  with  money — 
an  unfortunate  encouragement.  Without  means 
Verlaine  could  not  have  embarked  upon  the 
wandering  life,  from  which  he  derived  no  kind  of 
profit,  and  which  was  bound  to  lead  him  into  evil 
paths.  As  to  the  young  wife,  wearied  by  her 
husband's  roughness,  which  succeeded  in  the 
moods  produced  by  alcohol,  fits  of  passionate 
tenderness,  she  sighed  for  deliverance  from  the 
conjugal  yoke.  She  made  no  attempt  to  keep 
him  near  her,  to  save  him  from  himself.  Grown 
indifferent  to  his  plans,  his  literary  talent,  his 


PAUL  VERLAINE 

dawning  fame,  she  only  regarded  his  failings.     In 
her  youthful  and  frivolous  heart  all  love  for  him 
had  died,  and  desire  for  liberty  dominated  every 
other  sentiment.     This  was  the  initial  misfortune, 
and  the  young  wife,  now  married  again,  and  the 
happy  mother  of  a  family,  was  largely  responsible 
for  the  irregularities  in  the   subsequent  career  of 
the  poet,  if  she  will  permit  me  to  tell  her  so,  her 
whom   I   have   known   almost  from   a   child,   long 
before   her   meeting    with    Verlaine,    and    who,    I 
hoped  from  afar,  under  the  flag  that  August  day 
in  1870,  would  make  a  permanently  happy  man  of 
the  poor,  delicate,  sensitive,  sickly  genius  she  had 
bewitched.      For  he  loved  her  deeply ;    he  loved 
her  always  and  only,  and  this  love,  the  proof  of 
which  is  to  be  found   in   all   his   works,   and  the 
numerous  letters  I  possess,  survived  scandal,  legal 
proceedings,    cries  of  hatred,    calumnious   imputa- 
tions,  defamatory  statements,   and  more  than  all, 
a    second    union,    contracted    and    maintained    in 
happiness  under  the  despairing  and  envious  eyes 
of  the  unfortunate  poet. 

Far  be  it  from  me  to  impute  all  the  injury  to 
the  wife,  abused,  wounded,  often  solitary,  and  at 
times  of  crisis  ill-advised.  Daily  quarrels,  constant 
irritation,  outrageous  words,  even  threats,  wretched 
scenes  of  every  kind  multiplied  by  drunkenness, 
rendered  life  in  common  insupportable,  and  made 
both  parties  regard  separation  as  preferable,  even 
desirable.  But  Verlaine  was  good  at  heart  and 
affectionate,  and  he  should  have  been  treated  as 
one  suffering  from  illness.  Cure  was  possible,  but 
it  was  indispensable  that  the  young  wife  whom  he 
adored  should  act  as  nurse,  sister  of  mercy,  even 


TRAVELS  235 

surgeon  to  the  ulcerated  heart  of  her  husband,  and 
as  gaoler  to  his  rebellious  person.  She  could  not  or 
would  not  undertake  this  sublime  task  of  healing. 

Verlaine  has  himself  sorrowfully  stated  the  lack 
of  sympathy  he  encountered  in  the  touching  com- 
plaint in  the  Romances  sans  Paroles : — 

"  Vous  n'  avez  pas  eu  toute  patience, 
Cela  se  comprend,  par  malheur,  de  reste ; 
Vous  etes  si  jeune  !  et  1'  insouciance, 
C  est  le  lot  amer  de  1'age  celeste ! " 

A  separation  therefore  took  place,  later  to  be 
made  legal.  Verlaine  decided  to  travel  northwards 
through  Belgium  to  England  in  company  with 
Arthur  Rimbaud.  His  departure,  which  resembled 
a  flight,  had  a  singular  prologue ;  the  two  com- 
panions had  a  sort  of  rehearsal  of  their  projected 
expedition  one  morning  in  July  1872.  Taking 
train  for  Arras  they  arrived  there  early,  and  while 
awaiting  the  hour  when  Verlaine's  acquaintances 
in  the  town  would  be  ready  to  receive  them, 
they  installed  themselves  in  the  station  buffet  where 
they  drank  until  the  garrulous  stage  of  intoxication 
set  in,  when  they  embarked  upon  the  most  extra- 
ordinary conversation.  Rimbaud,  who  affected  a 
precocious  insolence  and  haughty  silence,  made  up 
his  mind  to  frighten  the  travellers  in  the  buffet, 
and  Verlaine,  with  his  usual  good-nature,  fell  in 
with  the  idea.  They  talked  of  assassinations, 
robberies,  old  women  strangled,  prisons,  locks, 
and  escapes  ;  they  gave  details  seemingly  precise 
of  penitentiaries,  and  all  in  a  voice  loud 
enough  to  enable  their  uneasy  and  soon  terrified 
neighbours  to  suppose  that  sitting  beside  them, 
drinking  in  the  peaceful  buffet,  were  two  escaped 


236  PAUL  VERLAINE 

prisoners  perhaps  fresh  from  the  committal  of  a 
crime.  They  played  their  parts  so  well,  thoroughly 
frightening  their  honest  neighbours,  that  suddenly 
two  policemen,  informed  either  by  a  traveller  or 
the  waiter,  entered  and  invited  the  friends  to 
accompany  them.  They  went  out  amidst  winks, 
chuckles,  and  alarmed  faces,  and  a  rumour  quickly 
spread  through  the  town  that  two  celebrated 
assassins  had  been  arrested,  together  with  circum- 
stantial details  of  the  age,  sex,  and  position  of 
their  victims,  and  the  size  of  the  wounds  they  had 
inflicted. 

Conducted  to  the  Hotel  -  de  -  Ville,  the  two 
suspects  were  interrogated.  Rimbaud,  confronted 
by  the  representative  of  justice,  resumed  his 
childish  aspect  and  fell  to  whimpering.  Verlaine, 
questioned  in  his  turn,  confirmed  his  friend's  denials, 
and  as  the  officer  of  the  law  began  to  excuse 
himself,  recognising  the  policemen's  error,  Verlaine 
having  on  him  letters  from  the  H6tel-de-Ville, 
diplomas,  receipts  for  rent,  and  other  papers 
establishing  his  identity,  and  the  possession  of 
certain  funds,  the  poet,  who  had  not  yet  recovered 
from  the  effects  of  his  libations,  raised  his  voice 
and  menaced  the  official.  Assuming  a  terrible 
aspect  he  declared  that  he  was  not  going  to 
condone  this  matter  of  arbitrary  arrest  (rolling 
his  r's  in  the  fashion  of  the  villain  in  a  melo- 
drama), that  he  would  write  about  it  in  the  press, 
and  agitate  his  Republican  friends,  and  they  would 
resent  such  treatment  of  two  comrades,  peaceful, 
honourable  citizens,  untouched  by  the  slightest 
judicial  suspicion.  He  added  that  having  been 
born  at  Metz,  he  had  the  choice  between  France 


TRAVELS 

and  Germany,  and  in  face  of  the  violent  usage 
to  which  the  French  police  had  subjected  him, 
he  should  put  himself  under  the  protection  of  the 
German  police  who,  at  least,  only  arrested 
scoundrels !  This  tirade  appeared  to  make  a 
certain  impression  on  the  officer,  who  summoned 
the  policemen  and  said  to  them,  "  Conduct  these 
people  to  the  station,  and  see  that  they  take  the 
first  train  to  Paris." 

This  was,  perhaps,  more  arbitrary  than  the 
arrest,  for  when  once  the  prisoners  had  established 
their  identity,  thus  proving  themselves  entirely 
innocent,  there  was  no  reason  why,  being  French, 
they  should  not  remain  in  Arras,  or  go  where  they 
liked.  However,  Verlaine  and  Rimbaud  were  taken 
back  to  the  station.  On  the  way  they  stopped  for 
refreshment,  of  which  the  policemen  partook,  and 
then  departed  for  Paris.  Arrived  at  the  Gare  du 
Nord  they  alighted,  lunched,  and  set  out  immedi- 
ately afterwards  for  Belgium.  From  there  they 
went  on  to  England  without  hindrance. 

From  London  Verlaine  wrote  me  numerous 
letters,  interesting  especially  on  account  of  their 
picturesque,  vivid,  humorous,  and  original  descrip- 
tion of  English  life.  He  also  gave  me  some 
indication  of  his  personal  sentiments,  labours,  and 
plans,  and  frequently  alluded  to  the  proceedings 
for  separation  already  set  on  foot  by  his  wife,  at 
the  instance  of  her  parents.  I  have  no  detail  of 
Verlaine's  and  Rimbaud's  arrival  in  London,  but 
here  is  an  undated  letter,  received  in  October  1872  : 

"  MY  DEAR  FRIEND, — You  are  certainly  aware 
of  all  that  has  been  happening.  It  appears  that 


238  PAUL   VERLAINE 

my  wife,  after  having  written  me  various  illogical 
and  insane  letters,  has  returned  to  her  excessively 
practical  and  loquacious  self.  Does  she  not  demand 
an  income  of  1,200  francs,  and  does  she  not  desire 
to  lay  a  prohibition  upon  me  ?  And  all  this  because 
I  do  not  wish  to  live  under  her  father's  roof.  I  do 
not  wish  to  remain  in  the  Rue  Nicolet,  because  my 
whole  life  since  I  was  so  foolish  as  to  go  to  my 
wife's  parents,  all  my  letters,  my  actions,  and  my 
words  have  been  under  espionage.  It  appears  a 
clamour  has  been  raised  over  my  departure  with 
Rimbaud.  What  is  there  compromising  in  a  man 
travelling  with  a  friend?  They  forget  that  my 
wife  stayed  by  herself  at  P^rigueux  for  two  months 
without  giving  me  her  address. 

"  But  what  is  the  good  of  worrying  you  with  all 
this  which  you  know  and  understand  as  well  as  I  do 
myself?  The  fact  is,  I  am  horribly  in  love  with  my 
wife  .  .  .  too  much  so !  You  saw  me,  and  your  sister 
also,  in  that  fatal  February,  but  though  suffering  then 
even  to  the  point  of  death,  I  have  endured  greater 
anguish  since  from  the  pin-pricks  inflicted  upon 
me  in  that  accursed  house  in  the  Rue  Nicolet. 

"  It  is  true  I  ardently  desire  that  my  wife  should 
return  to  me.  That  is  the  sole  hope  which  sustains 
me,  but  God  knows  if  it  comes  to  pass  and  she 
recognises  the  sincerity  of  my  incessant  protesta- 
tions, I  will  never  return  to  the  house  from  whence 
all  manner  of  vexations,  indelicacies,  searchings 
in  drawers,  and  other  mean  provocations  drove 
me  out  full  of  hatred  and  defiance,  I  who  am 
all  affection  and  simplicity,  alas ! 

"But  enough  lamentation!  You  will  please 
me  greatly  by  writing  to  me  ...  for  if  you  have 
an  ill  tongue,  I  believe  you  are  a  good  friend,  and 
you  know  that  I  am  yours  most  sincerely.  Write 
to  me,  therefore,  quickly.  .  .  . 

"P.S. — It  goes    without    saying    that    I    have 


TRAVELS  389 

nothing  against  Madame  Haute",  who  has  always 
been  good,  and  Sivry,  who  has  only  one  fault, 
that  of  being  something  of  a  coward.  .  .  ." 

I  had  been  present  at  the  commencement  of  the 
conjugal  misunderstanding,  having  lived,  during  the 
winter  of  1871-1872  in  the  same  house  as  Verlaine's 
mother,  26  Rue  Le"cluse.  There  I  had  very  often 
seen  him,  fresh  from  the  Rue  Nicolet,  nervous, 
overcome,  taking  refuge  with  his  mother,  chewing 
his  irritations,  and  ruminating  over  his  despairs. 
He  recounted  to  me  his  troubles,  grievances,  and 
subjects  for  complaint,  in  the  course  of  long 
evenings,  interspersed  with  the  smoking  of  pipes 
and  the  absorption  of  bottles  of  bitter  beer, 
obtained  from  the  grocer  opposite,  and  accom- 
panied by  heady  literature.  He  did  not  conceal 
his  own  errors ;  spontaneously  confessing  his 
frequent  accesses  of  soulographie  as  he  called  it, 
which  led  to  domestic  reproaches  and  scenes  with 
his  wife,  but  he  insisted  chiefly  on  the  misdeeds 
of  his  father-in-law  and  the  plaguing  of  which 
he  was  the  object.  Very  quickly  disaffection  had 
entered  into  his  wife's  heart.  She  incessantly  talked 
of  a  separation  ;  she  evinced  an  intense  desire  to 
live,  without  her  husband,  with  her  parents,  and 
to  break  all  ties  with  Verlaine.  There  was  an 
irresistible  impulsion  in  these  preparations  for  the 
rupture.  A  separation  which  at  first  appeared 
problematical,  almost  chimerical,  impeded  by  a 
thousand  obstacles,  conventions,  feelings,  legal 
intervention,  division  of  property,  regulation  of 
interests,  change  of  manner  of  life,  etc.,  soon  came 
to  be  faced  as  quite  possible  and  near  at  hand. 


240  PAUL   VERLAINE 

This  vital  act  was  eventually  regarded  as  a  simple 
and  easy  operation. 

Verlaine  had  tears  in  his  eyes  while  he  revealed 
these  sad  domestic  events,  As  he  continually 
repeated  in  his  letters,  he  loved  his  wife,  and 
suffered  cruelly  from  the  situation.  Evidently  he 
was  to  a  large  extent  its  originator ;  but  his  sorrow 
was  none  the  less  acute  on  that  account.  He 
was  weak,  he  found  it  impossible  to  resist  tempta- 
tion ;  drink  had  seized  hold  of  him,  and  when 
intoxicated  he  was  master  neither  of  his  words 
nor  his  actions.  Moreover,  Rimbaud  was  a  large 
element  of  discord,  and,  like  an  acid,  his  presence 
ate  away  the  last  bonds  which  united  the  pair. 

Mme.  Mathilde  Verlaine  taking  advantage  of 
her  husband's  relations  with  Rimbaud,  and  assuming 
the  truth  of  the  gossip  that  had  arisen  regarding 
the  intimacy  of  the  two  friends,  refused  to  allow 
him  to  enter  her  room.  Thus  the  rupture  assumed 
definite  shape,  and  each  party  secured  a  solicitor. 
It  was  to  escape  all  these  worries,  to  try  change 
of  air,  that  Verlaine  resolved  to  leave  the  country, 
at  least  for  the  present.  For  some  time  previously 
he  had  isolated  himself,  having  broken  with  many 
of  his  comrades,  and  ceased  to  frequent  Lemerre's, 
who  relates  "that  at  this  period — 1872 — the  poet 
became  nervous,  melancholy,  capricious." 

It  is  not  true,  all  his  letters  and  criticisms 
contradict  it,  that  he  was  offended  at  the  successes 
of  his  friends.  Verlaine  was  never  jealous  of  any 
one ;  envy  was  a  sentiment  altogether  unknown  to 
him.  He  rather  rejoiced,  as  in  a  personal  gain,  at 
the  fame  achieved  by  the  Parnassians,  and  willingly 
joined  in  the  applause.  Whenever  one  of  our  com- 


TRAVELS  241 

rades  published  a  book  or  had  a  play  performed  he 
never  failed  to  manifest  his  interest  or  satisfaction, 
even  at  the  most  troubled  moments  of  his  life  abroad. 
Lemerre  went  on  to  say  in  the  letter  reproduced  by 

M.  Ch.  Donos : 

*• 

"  He  had  been  one  of  the  first  to  predict  to 
me  Coppee's  great  success,  but  alcohol  rendered 
him  subject  to  terrible  fits  of  anger,  and  all  meet- 
ings with  him  had  to  be  given  up ;  he  felt  himself 
watched  and  humoured,  and  came  no  more." 

To  Verlaine's  letter  recently  quoted  I  replied, 
advising  him  to  resist  the  demand  for  legal  separa- 
tion instituted  by  his  wife.  I  urged  him  not  to 
condemn  himself  by  acceding  to  it,  and  thus  lending 
colour  to  his  wife's  statements  and  grievances  in 
spite  of  his  denial  of  them.  I  indicated  briefly 
with  a  reserve  easy  to  understand  the  motives 
which  dictated  my  counsels.  I  was  certainly  of 
opinion  that  life  in  common  was  hardly  possible 
for  the  pair,  and  that  from  this  point  of  view  the 
sentence  of  separation  would  be  a  good  thing  for 
both  of  them.  At  the  same  time,  in  the  interests 
of  my  friend,  not  only  present  but  future,  I  advised 
him  to  resist,  to  dispute  the  facts  brought  forward, 
to  insist  upon  an  investigation,  and  in  short  to  do 
all  that  would  constitute  a  serious  defence  in  an 
action  for  separation  or  divorce,  particularly  in 
regard  to  certain  statements  made  by  his  wife.  I 
feared  that  if  he  acceded  to  her  demand,  and  no 
enquiry  was  made,  credence  would  afterwards  be 
given  to  the  caluminous  imputations  brought  against 
him,  and  more  especially  that  which  concerned  his 
relations  with  Rimbaud. 

Q 


242  PAUL  VERLAINE 

Verlaine  answered  by  the  earliest  post : 

"  MY  DEAREST  EDMOND, — .  .  .  Most  certainly  I 
am  going  to  defend  myself  and  attack  myself  too. 
I  have  whole  packets  of  letters,  a  regular  stock  of 
'  avowals '  which  I  shall  use  since  the  example  has 
been  set.  For  I  feel  that  to  my  very  sincere 
affection,  of  which  you  were  a  witness  that  winter, 
has  succeeded  complete  contempt,  something  like 
the  feeling  of  a  heel  of  a  boot  for  a  frog.  I  thank 
you  for  taking  my  part,  and  congratulate  you  upon 
doing  so,  it  is  a  proof  of  your  old  friendship  first, 
and  of  your  good  judgment  next.  Oh !  what  an 
unloading  of  spite,  of  clumsy  intrigue  and  mis- 
management !  Some  other  day  I  will  tell  you  about 
my  interview  at  Brussels  with  my  wife.  I  have 
never  gone  in  for  psychology,  but  since  the  occasion 
is  offered  me,  the  memoir  I  am  preparing  for  my 
solicitor  will  be  the  basis  for  a  novel  I  have  in 
contemplation.  My  connection  with  Rimbaud  is 
very  curious  from  every  point  of  view ;  I  shall 
analyse  it  in  this  next  book ;  he  laughs  most  who 
laughs  longest.  .  .  .  And  now  ...  to  the  Tower 
of  London ! " 

Here  is  one  of  his  first  impressions  in  England. 
They  are  simple,  sometimes  naive,  often  amusing, 
never  pedantic.  His  notes  of  commonplace  things 
and  rapid  surveys  make  up  a  description  of  the 
outside  of  English  life,  still  true,  although  more 
than  thirty  years  have  passed  since  these  hasty  and 
superficial  traveller's  sketches  were  written.  They 
are  original,  fresh,  and  sincere,  as  any  one  who 
visits  London  will  recognise,  and  although  they  do 
not  merit  separate  publication,  yet  included  here 
among  Verlaine's  letters  as  he  wrote  them,  they 
complete  the  biography  of  the  poet  as  traveller. 


LONDON  SKETCHES 
"LONDON,  ENGLAND,  POSTE  RESTANTE. 

"  I  will  not  lament  like  Ovid,  but  at  once 
embark  upon  the  chapter :  London  Sketches.  Flat 
as  a  blackboard  London !  Little  dark  houses  or 
great  'Gothic'  and  'Venetian'  fronts  ;  four  or  five 
cafe's  for  drinking!  Battur  would  laugh  at  them. 
All  the  rest  are  dining-rooms,  where  no  drink  is  to 
be  had,  or  coffee-houses,  from  which  spirits  are 
rigorously  excluded.  'We  do  not  keep  spirits,' 
replied  a  maid  to  whom  I  put  the  insidious  question : 
'  One  absinthe  if  you  please,  Mademoiselle.'  A 
host  of  boys  in  red  shine  your  boots  from  morning 
till  night  for  a  penny.  To  obtain  by  the  aid  of 
their  syrupy  mixture  the  gloss,  the  secret  of  which 
Labertaudiere  believed  he  had  monopolised,  they 
positively  lick  your  shoe  and  set  to  work  with  a 
will,  soft  brush  in  one  hand,  hard  brush  in  the 
other,  and  the  boot  shines,  sacrebleu.  .  .  , 

"  Here  may  be  seen  the  triumph  of  rags,  impos- 
sible to  dream  of  such  tatters ;  but  thanks  to  the 
abominable  multiplications  of  the  little  red  shoe- 
blacks, there  is  not  a  single  beggar  whose  shoes, 
heels  and  toes  included,  do  not  shine  like  the  fire  of 
Cyrus  itself.  I  will  tell  you  about  the  better  cafe's 
presently ;  never  has  anything  been  seen  so  poor, 
so  ill-provided  ;  dirty,  clumsy  waiters,  tarnished  gild- 
ing and  paintings  which  would  make  Jean  de  Redon 
and  Ducornet-sans-bras  themselves  blush. 

"  And  the  theatres !  The  odour  of  humanity  ! 
Actors  of  the  time  of  the  late  virtuous  Moessard, 
cries  like  those  of  animals,  actresses  thin  enough 
to  make  one  weep.  ...  In  the  middle  of  the  ballet 
in  Le  Roi  Carotte  a  quadrille  of  Clodoches  is  intro- 
duced, danced  by  women.  In  the  music-halls,  the 
Alhambra,  Grecian,  etc.,  a  jig  is  danced  between 
two  '  God  save's.'  Well,  well,  how  they  revile  the 
Jesuits,  and  how  extraordinarily  those  foremost  in 
doing  so  resemble  Leconte  de  Lisle.  To  continue, 


244  PAUL   VERLAINE 

the  Thames  is  superb.  Picture  to  yourself  an 
immense  expanse  of  mud.  .  .  .  Bridges,  truly 
Babylonian,  with  hundreds  of  cast-iron  piles,  thick 
and  tall  as  the  late  Colonne  (Vendome),  and  painted 
blood-red. 

"  When  I  arrived  the  weather  was  superb  ;  i.e., 
imagine  a  sunset  seen  through  a  grey  veil.  But 
thanks  to  the  extraordinary  circulation  of  carriages, 
cabs,  omnibuses,  tramways,  trains  incessantly  pass- 
ing over  the  massive  bridges,  incredibly  rough 
passers-by,  brawlers  (ducks  must  be  of  English 
origin),  the  aspect  of  the  streets  is,  if  not  Parisian — 
oh,  blasphemy ! — at  least  very  distracting. 

"  More  details  in  another  letter,  and  drawings. 

"  N.B. — What  I  have  said  with  regard  to  rags 
only  applies  to  the  best  parts  of  the  town,  Regent 
Street,  Piccadilly,  Leicester  Square,  Trafalgar 
Square,  Mansion  House.  Wait  till  I  have  seen 
the  really  poor  districts !  As  a  whole,  however, 
it  is  very  unexpected,  and  a  hundred  times  more 
amusing  than  Italy,  and  Paris,  and  the  banks  of 
the  Rhine.  ...  I  enclose  a  new  poem.  Is  it 
promising  ? 

"Of  French  here  I  have  only  seen  Rdgamey — 
very  jolly.  Perhaps  I  shall  take  on  Vermersch's  old 
room,  he  has  just  married,  the  idiot !  I  hope  to 
see  all  the  bons  bougres  soon." 

Other  letters  of  the  same  period  continue  his 
impressions  of  England. 

"  I  have  seen  the  wax -works  .  .  .  and  the  more 
than  regal  enthronement  of  the  Lord  Mayor  ;  excite- 
ment everywhere,  trumpets,  bands,  flags,  shouting, 
and  hurrahing. 

"  I  take  advantage  of  this  letter  to  curse,  as  I 
must,  the  abominable  '  ox  tail  soup ! '  Fi,  the  horror ! 
There  is  also  *  coffee  plain,  per  cup,'  a  ghastly 
mixture  of  dried  chicory  and  milk !  Most  horrible  ! 


LONDON  SKETCHES  245 

And  the  gin!  Extract  of  sewage.  The  fish  is 
horrible ;  sole,  mackerel,  whiting,  etc.,  ...  all  soft, 
sticky,  and  flabby.  They  give  you  fried  sole  with  a 
piece  of  lemon,  as  large  as  a  duck's  heart ;  meat, 
vegetables,  fruit,  all  good,  but  too  dear.  Warm 
beer.  The  English  drinking  establishments, 
properly  speaking,  merit  the  description,  'outside 
it  is  fine,  but  inside  it  is  poor'  (refrain  from  an 
operetta). 

"  The  front  is  in  wood  the  colour  of  mahogany, 
but  with  great  copper  ornaments.  To  the  height 
of  a  man  the  windows  are  filled  with  coloured  glass, 
flowers,  birds,  etc.,  like  Duval's.  You  enter  by  a 
terribly  thick  door  kept  half  open  by  a  formidable 
strap,  which  (the  door)  catches  you  in  the  back 
after  having  knocked  off  your  hat.  The  interior 
is  quite  small,  a  zinc  slab  covers  the  mahogany 
counter,  beside  which  either  standing  or  perched 
on  very  high,  very  narrow  stools  drink,  smoke,  and 
talk  through  their  noses  well  -  dressed  gentlemen, 
disagreeable,  poor  porters  and  drivers  as  swollen 
and  hairy  as  ours.  Behind  the  counter  are  waiters 
with  their  shirt  sleeves  turned  up,  or  young  women, 
generally  pretty,  with  untidy  hair,  elegantly  dressed 
in  bad  taste,  who  are  playfully  prodded  by  a  finger, 
a  stick,  or  an  umbrella  to  the  accompaniment  of 
coarse  laughter  and  apparently  coarse  words  which 
do  not  seem  to  shock  them.  .  .  . 

"  Yesterday  evening  in  Leicester  Square  a  band 
of  German  musicians  began  their  noise  in  front 
of  the  cafes,  when  suddenly  an  Englishman,  horribly 
drunk,  seized  hold  of  the  music  stand  of  one  of 
the  poor  devils,  and  amidst  general  indifference 
struck  him  repeated  blows  on  the  head  until  the 
unfortunate  fell  down.  Arrest  followed.  .  .  .  To- 
day is  Sunday :  aoh !  Very  dull !  Everything 
shut.  No  business.  Letter  -  boxes  also  closed. 
No  shoeblacks.  Eating  places  open  at  meal  times 


346  PAUL   VERLAINE 

are  submitted  to  frequent  visits,  with  the  intention 
of  finding  out  if  one  is  drinking  too  much.  .  .  . 
I  met  Oswald  who  has  turned  sculptor.  I  am 
going  to  see  him  to-morrow.  We  are  learning 
a  little  English,  and  know  enough  to  find  this  town 
absurd  .  .  .  '  and  the  English  ridiculous '  (quota- 
tion from  an  operetta).  If  you  have  time  and 
opportunity  to  copy  again  for  me  the  six  sonnets 
of  Les  Amies,  I  should  bless  you." 

Les  Amies  of  which  Verlaine  speaks,  is  a  small 
collection  of  verse,  very  unrestrained,  of  which  I 
possess  the  original  manuscript,  or  at  least  a  careful 
copy  in  Verlaine's  own  hand.  Les  Amies,  which 
are  now  included  among  his  complete  works,  vol.  ii., 
edition  Leon  Vanier,  1899,  were  sent  by  Verlaine 
to  Poulet-Malassis,  and  appeared  in  a  little  booklet, 
now  unobtainable,  under  the  name  of  Pablo  de 
Herlagnez.  A  very  few  copies  of  this  book  were 
printed,  the  majority  of  them  being  seized  by  the 
police ;  they  had  a  warrant,  it  was  said,  authorising 
the  seizure.  These  sonnets,  of  the  Lesbian  order, 
are  now  inoffensive  in  consequence  of  later  publica- 
tions in  France,  both  in  prose  and  verse,  by 
numerous  writers  on  the  same  dangerous  subject ; 
but  at  that  time,  even  for  Poulet-Malassis,  it  was 
an  audacious  undertaking. 

Continuation  of  London  Sketches,  London  1872. 

"  While  awaiting  a  letter  from  you  relative  to 
my  miserable  affairs  here  are  some  more  London 
details. 

"  I  have  seen  Lissagaray ;  he  now  lives  at 
30  Newman  Street,  Oxford  Street — he  is  to  reply 
to  you  soon ;  also  Matusziewicz  (officer  in  the 
army,  compromised  in  the  Commune).  Most  useful 


LONDON  SKETCHES  «47 

information  with  regard  to  paying  papers  for  which 
to  write. 

"The  fog  is  beginning  to  show  the  end  of  its 
dirty  nose ;  every  one  is  coughing  except  me.  It 
is  true  that  I,  you  know  me,  wrap  myself  up  in 
flannel,  with  a  comforter  and  cotton  in  the  ears, 
all  precautions  as  ridiculous  in  Paris  'as  they  are 
honourable  here. 

' 4  Grogs  and  punch  inaugurate  their  syrupy 
empire  .  .  .  also  pale-ale  and  stout ;  I  am  as  well 
as  my  poor  head,  baffled  by  all  these  villainous 
manoeuvres,  permits  me  to  be. 

"And  then,  it  rains,  and  rains.  Enough  to 
melt  a  certain  hard  heart  that  you  know,  alas  less 
well  than  I  ! 

"All  the  theatres  overflow.  I  am  going  this 
evening  to  Herve"'s  CEil  Crevd,  adapted  for  the 
English  stage  (Opera  Comique,  Strand),  and  I  am 
writing  to  you  in  the  Cafe"  de  la  Sablonniere  et  de 
Provence,  Leicester  Square,  a  nice  little  place 
which  I  recommend  to  all  travellers.  At  least  no 
Bordelais  nor  Italians :  no  one  except  the  eaters 
at  the  table  dhdte.  In  the  dining-room  are  two 
ale-drinkers — myself  and  another. 

"Chapter  on  women:  Incredible  chignons, 
velvet  bracelets  with  steel  buckles,  shawls  red  as 
blood,  as  Valles  very  justly  remarked.  All  pretty, 
with  a  bad  expression  and  the  voices  of  angels. 
One  cannot  believe  all  the  charm  there  is  in  the 

little   phrase,  Old    C ,'    seek  its   equivalent  in 

French,  addressed  every  evening  to  old  gentlemen 
better  dressed  than  balanced  by  exquisite  misses 
in  long  satin  skirts,  variegated  with  mud,  spotted 
with  drink,  and  with  holes  caused  by  cigarettes. 
These  conversations  are  generally  held  in  Regent 
Street,  Soho,  Leicester  Square,  and  other  Franco- 
Belgian  districts.  It  appears  that  in  the  city  it 
is  worse!  I  shall  go  and  see. 


248  PAUL   VERLAINE 

"  Negroes,  as  if  it  rained  them,  in  the  music-halls, 
streets,  everywhere. 

"  Photographs  in  the  windows  :  Stanley,  Living- 
stone, Eugenie.  Oh,  the  Eugenics!  more  than  thirty- 
two  positions.  It  is  overdone,  my  word!  Daudet 
appears,  but  not  Abeilard.  So  much  the  better! 
Still  Busnach  and  Clairville  were  very  cruel  to 
marry  the  latter.  I  have  met  Vermersch  at '  last, 
very  amiable,  and  his  wife  very  charming. 

"  I  have  seen  L'CEilCrevt — very  amusing.  The 
Langouste  Atmosphtrique  is  replaced  by  a  drinking 
song  which  the  bailiff  sings.  .  .  .  The  part  of 
Alexandrivore  is  played  by  a  woman.  The  Due 
d' En-face  is  very  gay.  I  have  seen  Macbeth,  the 
orchestra  begins  with  the  overture  from  La  Dame 
Blanche,  and  in  the  entr'actes  plays  Olivier  Me'tra's 
quadrilles.  Fine  scenery !  it  is  at  the  Princess 
Theatre.  Oh  !  my  friend !  the  matches,  they  burst 
like  an  explosion,  but  never  catch  alight,  do  you 
understand,  never!  A  fortune  might  be  made  by 
importing  French  matches  in  spite  of  their  price, 
and  what  a  service  to  render  to  poor  smokers  : 
I  am  thinking  of  it. 

"  I  count  on  entering,  in  a  few  days,  a  great  house 
here  where  the  pay  is  good.  Meanwhile  I  am  doing 
some  American  work,  fairly  well  remunerated.  I 
vegetate  less  than  the  bons  bougres  of  the  Rue 
Nicolet  expected,  although  I  am  always  very  sad 
at  the  behaviour  of  my  wife,  for  whom,  as  you 
know,  my  mother  has  done  everything,  and  I  have 
submitted  to  everything.  Write  to  me  quickly, 
always  34-35  Rowland  Street,  W. 

"  Vermersch  is  going  to  give  a  lecture  on 
Th£ophile  Gautier.  That  will  make  a  fine  sensa- 
tion in  the  wretched  press,  I  shall  be  there  and 
will  tell  you  about  it." 

Here  is  another  letter : 


LONDON  SKETCHES  349 

"  In  greatest  haste  I  send  you  a  few  lines  with 
regard  to  the  Vermersch  lecture.  It  was  given  on 
the  first  floor  of  a  public-house,  6-7  Compton  Street, 
Soho.  Vermersch  very  elegant.  ...  His  lecture 
was  quite  literary,  very  detailed,  very  anecdotal, 
and  very  much  applauded  by  the  very  numerous 
English  and  French,  .  .  .  Communists  for  the 
most  part.  The  lecture  was  the  first  of  a  series,  of 
which  the  second  will  be  on  Blanqui  next  Thursday/ 

"LONDON,  23^ September  1872. 

"  Thank  you  for  your  good  letter,  substantial  but 
badly  written.  .  .  .  Thank  you  also  for  your  compli- 
ments relative  to  my  poor  verses,  which  have  been 
carefully  denounced,  but  whither  in  some  Gazette  de 
Paris  or  Courrier  de  France  I  do  not  know.  If 
you  get  wind  of  it,  it  would  be  very  kind  if  you 
would  procure  the  number  and  send  me  the  review. 
And  while  I  am  on  the  subject,  when  you  see 
Ble'mont  will  you  kindly  shake  his  fist,  and  beg 
him  from  me  to  send  me  the  numbers  of  the 
Renaissance.  .  .  .  Make  this  request  to  Ble'mont 
in  a  very  friendly  way,  for  he  has  been  very  kind 
to  me,  and  is  the  only  one  of  my  friends,  with  the 
exception  of  yourself,  who  *  deigns'  to  write  to 
the  '  wretched  creature '  it  appears  I  am. 

"  I  see  Lissagaray  but  seldom,  still  I  could  drop 
him  a  word  regarding  your  questions — and  this  I 
will  do  to-morrow.  To-morrow,  alas,  is  Sunday. 
Happily  there  is  a  monster  meeting  in  Hyde  Park 
on  the  subject  of  the  police.  '  On  behalf  of  the  dis- 
charged and  imprisoned  constables.  Orator,  Mr 
George  Odger — Republican.'  I  shall  go  and  will 
tell  you  about  it.  The  notice  carried  by  the 
sandwichmen  is  '  Caution — do  not  heed  the  rumour 
circulated  to  the  contrary,  and  the  false  reports  of 
the  newspapers.'  In  short  it  is  an  attempt  on  the 
part  of  the  Radical  party  there  to  seduce  the  police. 


350  PAUL   VERLAINE 

"  There  is  a  unique  curiosity  I  believe  here  :  it  is 
the  Tower's  Subway — i.e.,  a  tube  submerged  about 
a  hundred  and  fifty  feet  in  the  Thames.  One 
descends  a  hundred  steps.  It  is  literally  a  cast- 
iron  tube  with  gas  jets  at  about  a  man's  height, 
with  flooring  half  a  yard  wide.  It  is  warm,  it 
smells,  and  it  trembles  like  a  suspension  bridge 
under  the  immense  weight  of  the  water.  In  short, 
one  is  very  content  with  having  seen  it.  But  when 
one  thinks  that  it  is  constructed  with  all  the  English 
rashness  and  all  the  indifference  to  danger  of  these 
strange  people,  one  has,  on  issuing  from  it,  a  delicious 
shiver  of  relaxation.  I  must  soon  go  and  see  the 
tunnel  on  the  subject  of  which  the  English  them- 
selves say  it  is  necessary  to  come  down  a  peg. 

"  The  tube  of  which  I  spoke  is  two  steps  from 
London  Bridge,  the  last  bridge  possible  over  the 
Thames. 

"  Here  every  thing  is  small,  except  the  City,  post- 
offices,  banks,  etc.,  except  South wark,  an  enormous 
street  full  of  manufactories  and  immense  warehouses, 
except  the  docks,  less  fine  however  than  those  of 
Antwerp,  Belgravia  Square,  and  some  gigantic 
Terminus  Hotels.  Everything  is  small :  the  houses 
of  two  stories  without  visible  roofs,  at  the  bottom 
the  doors,  collidors,  door  handles,  the  compartments 
of  the  public-houses,  comparable  truly  to  the  insides 
of  pomegranates,  the  very  small  yellow  bricks  in 
the  walls,  which  bricks  become,  at  the  end  of  a 
very  short  time,  obscurely  reddened,  then  altogether 
blackened ;  everything  is  small,  thin,  emaciated, 
especially  the  poor,  with  their  pallid  complexions, 
drawn  features,  long  skeleton  hands,  thin  beards, 
miserable  light  hair,  curling  naturally  after  the 
manner  of  growth  of  feeble  things,  like  potatoes 
in  a  cellar,  hot-house  flowers,  etc.  Words  cannot 
describe  the  dreadful  misery  of  these  uninteresting 
but  very  fine,  very  distinguished  wretches. 


LONDON  SKETCHES  251 

"  Here  for  a  penny  one  can  buy  oranges,  and 
incalculably  exquisite  pears,  pomegranates  also, 
apples,  etc. 

"  Give  me  as  many  details  as  possible  regarding 
the  '  dear  child  '  and  her  august  family.  Do  you 
see  the  Sivrys  still  ?  Madame  Rimbaud  is  occupy- 
ing herself  very  vehemently  with  the  affair.  She 
believes  that  I  should  submit  to  being  separated 
from  her  son.  What  do  you  say  ?  I  believe  it 
would  prove  their  one  weapon  against  me.  '  They 
are  caned,  therefore  they  are  guilty,'  whilst  we  are 
ready,  Rimbaud  and  I,  if  necessary,  to  prove  our 
innocence  to  all  the  clique — 'and  that  will  be  the 
justice.' " 

The  parents  of  Verlaine's  wife,  however,  arguing 
from  Rimbaud's  stay  in  London  in  company  with 
Verlaine,  lodged  an  application  for  separation,  one 
of  the  motives  for  the  demand  being  the  intimacy 
with  Rimbaud,  which  grievance  was  detailed. 
Verlaine  wanted  to  reply,  to  publish  letters  in  the 
press,  to  convoke  friends,  and  to  hold  a  tribunal 
of  honour.  He  went  so  far,  as  the  letter  above 
shows,  as  to  offer  to  prove  his  innocence.  This 
offer,  which  might  have  been  accepted  by  the 
opposing  party,  must  be  remembered.  If  it  had 
no  weight  with  the  judges,  it  would  have  in  public 
opinion.  The  silence  of  the  accusers  absolved  the 
accused. 

I  replied,  urging  him  to  calmness  and  silence, 
except  in  regard  to  the  legal  replies  demanded 
by  the  procedure.  I  particularly  recommended 
him  not  to  give  too  much  publicity  to  the  motive 
in  question  brought  forward  in  the  summons. 
People  always  know  enough,  and  the  malignity  of 
the  public  would  seize  on  it  only  too  easily.  He 


253  PAUL  VERLAINE 

wanted  in  his  rage  to  go  to  Paris  in  order  to 
seek  out  his  wife's  solicitor  and  break  his  neck.  I 
dissuaded  him  from  such  violence,  equally  ridiculous 
and  impossible,  and  told  him  that  in  the  legal  duel 
that  was  to  follow,  the  barristers  would  fight  for  their 
clients  with  stamped  paper,  and  urged  him  to  confide 
to  his  solicitor  the  duty  of  punishing  his  confrere. 
He  answered  by  the  following  letter,  in  which  he 
protested  once  again  against  the  odious  accusation  : 

"  Thank  you  for  your  good  advice.  I  will  follow 
it  although  I  should  have  liked  to  confound  at  once 
the  abominable  calumnies  they  bring  against  me, 
for  what  blackmailing  purpose  I  do  not  know.  To 
this  end  I  have  prepared  a  memoir  which  will  be 
useful  later.  Therein  I  clearly  state  with,  I  believe, 
a  communicative  emotion,  all  that  the  unhappy  one 
has  made  me  suffer,  and  everything  that  led  to  my 
final  morosity.  As  to  the  filthy  accusation,  I  have 
pulverised  it,  I  think,  entirely,  and  cast  back  all 
the  disgusting  opprobrium  on  the  authors.  I  have 
detailed  the  unheard  of  perfidies  of  the  latter  time, 
and  show  that  all  this  affair  against  nature  that 
they  have  the  infamy  to  reproach  me  with,  is 
simple  intimidation  (blackmailing)  for  the  purpose 
of  obtaining  a  larger  pension.  ...  I  expose  in 
a  psychical  analysis,  very  sober  but  very  clear, 
without  phrase  or  paradox,  the  highly  honourable 
and  sympathetic  elements  of  my  very  real,  very 
deep,  and  very  persevering  friendship  for  Rimbaud. 
.  .  .  You  have  known  all  about  it  from  the  first 
day,  and  will  write  me  your  advice  since  you  are 
so  kind  as  to  offer  me  your  good  offices  which 
I  accept  with  all  my  heart. 

"  I  am  going  to  set  about  recovering  my  belong- 
ings, which  they  insist  on  keeping  from  me,  in  spite 
of  a  courteous  demand  that  I  sent  them  in  the  form 


LONDON  SKETCHES  353 

of  a  very  affectionate  letter  to  my  wife.  It  goes  with- 
out saying  that  if  some  of  our  friends  are  hesitating, 
and  more  especially  if  they  know  the  grounds  for 
the  summons,  I  authorise  you  to  repeat  everything 
I  have  said,  at  need  to  show  them  my  letters.  .  .  . 
I  have  received  a  kind  letter  from  Blemont  and 
from  Victor  Hugo,  to  whom  I  wrote  before  receiv- 
ing the  summons.  Is  it  necessary  to  write  them  now 
on  the  matter  ?  .  .  . 

"  My  life  is  entirely  intellectual.  I  have  never 
worked  more  than  I  am  doing  now,  freed  from 
the  thousand  and  one  annoyances  which  poisoned 
my  life  in  that  family.  Here  I  am  given  over 
entirely  to  poetry,  intellectuality,  and  conversations 
purely  literary  and  serious.  A  very  small  circle  of 
artists  and  literary  men.  And  they  want  to  drag 
me  from  my  quasi  hermitage  and  make  me  bring 
forward  memoirs  and  letters  before  the  magistrates. 
I  am  working  well  in  spite  of  it  all.  I  have  entered 
into  relations  with  an  editor,  and  I  hope  before 
three  weeks  have  passed  I  shall  be  able  to  send 
to  a  few  friends,  you,  of  course,  among  them,  a 
little  booklet  with  (perhaps)  a  frontispiece,  entitled 
Romances  sans  Paroles.  .  .  .  If  you  see  Coppe"e  tell 
him  that  all  the  piano  organs  grind  out  his  Se're'nade 
from  the  Passant  (Mandolinata  by  Paladilhe),  con- 
current with  that  horrible  grand  air  from  Martha. 
Which  will  survive  of  these  two  .  .  .  ?  That  is  the 
question :  Diamond  cut  diamond.  There  are  a  great 
many  Turks  here ;  one  of  them,  a  tobacconist, 
is  called  Economides,  and  Italians.  .  .  .  The 
French,  euh  /  .  .  .  euh  /  .  .  .  are  generally  keepers 
of  wine-stalls,  newsagents,  and  ill-bred,  except  your 
servant,  and  some  other  bons  bougres. 

"  If  you  see  my  mother,  tranquillise  her. 

"  Kind  regards  to  Oliveira,  Charly,  Notre 
Nanteuil  (Monnantheuil,  publicist  and  violinist), 
and  the  Messieurs  of  la  Renaissance'' 


254  PAUL  VERLAINE 

"LONDON,  same  address. 

"  Leicester  Square  is  an  uncultivated  place, 
surrounded  by  dirty  trees,  in  the  middle  of  which 
is  a  zinc  horse  painted  red,  which  was  deprived 
of  its  rider,  George  IV.  I  believe,  on  the  day 
of  a  turbulent  meeting.  They  want  to  replace 
the  man  on  his  beast ;  but  the  place  belongs  to  a 
man  of  spirit  who  will  not  permit  this  reinstate- 
ment, .  .  .  and  the  lease  lasts  another  forty-five 
years.  Forty-five  years  of  joy  for  the  foreigner! 
The  French  cafe's  there  are  frequented  by  com- 
mercial travellers. 

"  Is  it  true  that  the  Communists  are  all  dispersed 
among  the  faubourgs,  with  the  exception  of  Oudet, 
Landeck,  and  V^sinier,  where  they  are  quite  quiet, 
and  issue  a  very  good  journal,  La  FMration,  which 
is  said  to  be  maintained  by  Badingue  ?  I  am 
thoroughly  determined  to  have  as  little  as  possible 
to  do  with  these  gentlemen,  except  Andrieu,  a 
very  noble  and  clever  man,  and  R^gamey,  very 
agreeable  and  very  Parisian.  I  have  seen  no  one 
I  know  who  is  fixed  here. 

"The  tobacco  is  filthy,  and  cigars  unobtainable 
here!  .  .  .  The  city  is  a  truly  interesting  place. 
An  extraordinary  activity  in  the  streets,  narrow 
and  black,  but  flanked  with  fine  houses,  offices, 
banks,  warehouses,  etc.  I  went  the  other  day  by 
boat  as  far  as  Woolwich — the  docks  are  wonderful 
— Carthage,  Tyre,  all  rolled  into  one,  eh  ?  Regent 
Street,  the  fine  quarter,  heu!  heu!  like  the  Chausse'e 
d'Antin  in  the  time  of  Louis  Philippe  :  provincial 
finery,  pedestrians  like  dressed  -  up  savages,  few 
carriages,  no  equipages  ! 

"  To  sum  up,  except  for  its  vastness  and  its  very 
imposing  commercial  activity,  almost  terrifying  for 
any  one  except  a  Parisian,  London  is  an  immense 
Carpentras — I,  who  come  from  the  so  much  decried 
Brussels,  declare  it  a  very  charming  town  (400,000 


LONDON  SKETCHES  255 

inhabitants),  more  beautiful  and  richer  in  many 
places  than  Paris,  overflowing  with  splendid  cafes, 
restaurants,  theatres,  and  other  places,  whilst  the 
famous  London  is  nothing  more  in  the  eyes  of  the 
sage  than  a  clumsy  Carpentras ;  do  I  calumniate 
Carpentras  ?  .  .  .  Thank  you  for  useful  information. 
I  have  written  to  my  wife  with  regard  to  the  settle- 
ment of  my  affairs.  If  recalcitrant,  I  will  take 
further  action.  Very  painful  all  these  wretched 
details,  and  worse  still  this  desertion  of  me  by  my 
wife  for  such  a  stepfather.  I  say  desertion,  since 
I  have  never  ceased  to  recall  her  to  my  side,  and 
she  no  longer  even  writes  to  me  after  having 
insanely  abused  me  and  insulted  my  mother,  to 
whom  she  will  not  even  send  my  son  \  Tell  that 
to  all  my  'astonished'  friends." 

Another  letter. 

"  Having  fled  like  Lot  from  the  Gomorrah  of 
the  Rue  Nicolet,  without  taking  anything  away, 
behold  me  destitute,  without  books,  pictures,  or 
anything  else  that  belongs  to  me,  all  being  detained 
by  the  amiable  family  you  know  of,  and  no  prospect 
of  receiving  them.  Be  so  kind  as  to  advise  me 
a  friendly,  or  at  worst,  legal  method  of  obtaining 
them.  There  is  also  the  child  they  want  to  cheat 
me  out  of,  and  meanwhile  are  hiding  from  my 
mother,  who  can  do  no  more.  As  to  that,  it  is  an 
atrocious  offence,  and  will  be  punished  by  justice, 
human  or  divine.  Of  the  latter,  if  necessary,  I  will 
be  the  active  instrument  .... 

"  London  Sketches  :  I  am  working  hard.  Some 
serious  French  papers  are  being  established  here; 
I  am  intriguing  and  believe  I  shall  be  taken  on 
them.  I  know  the  principals ;  therefore,  although 
far  from  happy  .  .  .  behold  me  full  of  courage  with 
my  sleeves  turned  up.  .  .  . 


256  PAUL  VERLAINE 

"  London  is  less  melancholy  than  its  reputation  ; 
it  is  true  that  one  must  be  a  searcher  like  me  in 
order  to  discover  its  distractions ;  I  have  found 
many.  But  clean  cafe's,  nix,  nix.  One  must  resign 
oneself  to  dirty  drinking  -  shops  called  '  French 
coffee-houses/  or  to  the  commercial  travellers'  boxes 
of  Leicester  Square.  No  matter,  this  incredible 
town  is  very  well,  black  as  a  crow  and  noisy  as  a 
duck.  .  .  .  Everlastingly  glutted  in  spite  of  ridiculous 
tracts  about  drunkenness ;  immense,  although  at 
bottom  nothing  but  a  confused  collection  of  clamour- 
ing, rival,  ugly,  and  flat  little  towns  ;  without  any 
monuments  except  its  interminable  docks  (which 
are  sufficient  for  me  and  my  more  and  more  modern 
style  of  poetry).  It  is  well  enough,  in  spite  of  its 
numerous  absurdities  which  I  have  given  up 
enumerating. 

"  Enclosed  are  two  little  poems  to  follow  after 
the  one  already  sent  you.  I  propose  to  print  them 
over  here  next  month  with  others  of  a  similar 
character,  under  the  title  Romances  sans  Paroles. 
I  count  on  you  for  advertisement." 

Verlaine  had  quitted  precipitately,  and,  as  it 
were,  secretly,  the  conjugal,  or  rather  his  father- 
in  -  law's  dwelling  -  place.  He  had,  therefore, 
left  in  the  Rue  Nicole  t  not  only  household 
furniture  but  a  certain  number  of  altogether 
personal  objects  which  he  was  desirous  of  recover- 
ing. One  becomes  attached  to  things :  souvenirs, 
familiar  objects,  books,  all  the  intimate  garniture  of 
a  home.  Such  things,  frequently  useless,  assume 
a  position  of  importance  in  the  case  of  separation. 
It  is  the  lack  of  them  which  often  makes  travel 
distressing  and  saddening  ;  one  feels  lost,  and  tries 
to  lessen  the  days  spent  in  hotels  where  everything 


LONDON  SKETCHES  257 

is  strange.  In  his  gloomy  and  sombre  furnished 
apartments  in  London  Verlaine  recalled  his 
domestic  gods  and  evinced  a  strong  desire  to 
recover  them.  His  mother  sent  me  a  list  of  the 
personal  property  claimed  by  her  son  from  the 
Maute"  family,  and  I  sent  it  on,  asking  them  to 
accede  to  the  legitimate  demand  of  the  absentee. 
I  believe  that  most  of  them  were  sent  to  Verlaine's 
mother,  who,  by  reason  of  her  son's  unsettled  life, 
took  care  of  them,  and  almost  all  of  them  after  her 
death  were  taken  in  default  of  payment  by  Verlaine's 
creditors. 

The  action  for  separation  proceeded  and  con- 
stantly occupied  the  mind  of  the  voluntary  exile. 
The  following  letter  explains  his  feelings  at  this 
melancholy,  but  not  yet  entirely  disastrous,  period 

of  his  life. 

"LONDON,  i^th  November  1872. 

"  Rimbaud  has  recently  written  to  his  mother 
informing  her  of  all  that  has  been  said  and  done 
against  us,  and  I  am  at  present  in  regular  correspon- 
dence with  her.  I  have  given  her  the  addresses  of 
you  and  your  mother,  the  Mautes,  M.  Istace,  and 
the  two  solicitors ;  and  you  have  my  authority  to 
act  in  the  matter.  How  are  matters  progressing? 
Have  the  two  solicitors  corresponded?  It  seems 
to  me  the  logical  thing  to  do  ...  but  the  law  is 
not  logical,  as  every  one  who  has  to  do  with  it 
knows.  .  .  .  Do  you  see  my  wife,  the  Sivrys, 
Carjat,  Pelletan  ?  Have  any  proofs  ! !  confessions  ! ! 
letters  ! ! !  plans,  after-thoughts  come  up  ?  What 
do  the  people  say  who  visit  my  mother?  ...  Has 
she  told  you  of  the  very  idiotic  letter  beginning 
*  My  dear  Mamma,'  and  signed  'Anna,'  dated  from 
Liege  for  Brussels,  which  arrived  at  my  hotel  three 
days  after  my  mother's  return  to  Paris,  and  a  day 

R 


258  PAUL  VERLAINE 

after  the  appearance  at  the  poste  restante  of  a 
woman  .  .  .  who  demanded  my  address  .  .  .  ? 
And  also  that  some  days  before  a  gentleman  made 
the  same  enquiry,  but  although  in  both  cases  the 
address  was  given  no  one  presented  themselves  at 
the  house.  The  letter  in  question  was  absolutely 
incomprehensible  .  .  .  the  writing  was  evidently 
disguised  .  .  .  but  the  faults  in  orthography  leave 
me  in  no  doubt,  whatsoever,  regarding  the  source  of 
this  impudent  mystification.  .  .  .  Madame  Rimbaud, 
on  her  part,  tells  me  she  has  received  several 
anonymous  letters  against  her  son.  There  is  a 
connecting  link  between  all  these  circumstances 
which  should  and  could  be  broken.  That  is  why 
I  inform  you  on  the  subject,  so  that  you  may  aid 
me  with  your  friendly  intuition  to  break  the  spider's 
web. 

"  Enclosed  are  three  copies  of  Vers  a  Bibi, 
which  appeared  yesterday  in  L Avenir.  They  are 
old,  you  know  them  (Les  Vaincus),  but  they  have 
come  out  at  last.  Two  are  for  Valade  and  Blemont. 
If  you  see  the  former  upbraid  him  for  his  silence, 
also  young  Gavroche  (Forain),  Cros,  and  Cabaner. 

"  Felicitations  on  your  translation  of  Swinburne." 

In  a  letter  of  a  month  later  Verlaine  seemed 
to  have  endeavoured  to  throw  off  his  mind  all 
the  worry  of  the  legal  proceedings.  He  even 
reproached  me  with  speaking  of  it  exclusively  in 
my  letters.  He  returned  to  the  London  Sketches. 

"LONDON,  26th  December  1872. 

"I  have,  contrary  to  my  custom,  delayed 
writing  to  you.  You  must  blame  yourself.  Why 
do  you  only  write  about  that  wretched  case?  I 
admit  your  absorption  in  it  is  all  on  my  behalf,  but 


LONDON  SKETCHES  259 

mine  does  not  prevent  me  when  I  write  from 
mingling  with  the  pure  wine  of  business,  the  water 
...  of  innocent  gossip.  ...  In  this  letter  there 
shall  be  no  allusion  to  the  stupid  affair." 

London  Sketches  :  —  "  The  Grenadiers,  splendid 
men  in  red,  curled  and  oiled,  every  Sunday  give 
their  arms  to  a  girl,  for  the  sum  of  sixpence.  But 
it  is  a  different  matter  with  the  Horseguards,  with 
their  breast-plates,  top  -  boots,  and  helmets  with 
white  plumes,  a  shilling !  dame !  This  was  told 
me  by  an  Englishman. 

"  The  negroes  in  the  music-halls  are  wonderful ; 
also  the  weather,  which  is,  at  least  this  winter,  of 
angelic  mildness.  There  was  a  regular  May  sun 
to-day. 

"  It  was  Christmas  yesterday.  Like  Sunday, 
only  worse,  and  to-day  is  almost  as  bad.  However, 
the  goose  is  exquisite.  I  get  it  every  day  at  these 
islanders  at  this  time  of  year  with  apple  sauce. 

"  I  am  very  melancholy,  however,  and  all  alone. 
Rimbaud  (whom  I  alone  really  know)  has  gone, 
leaving  a  frightful  blank.  The  rest  are  all  the 
same,  canaille ;  and  this  will  be  shown,  but  chut ! 
zut! 

"  I  almost  know  English,  but  it  is  absurd ! 

"  Beef-steack  does  not  exist.  .  .  . 

" '  Stop,'  is  only  used  on  boats ;  to  cabbies  one 
says  '  Much  obliged ! ' 

"  By  the  way,  it  appears  that  my  wife  gossips 
at  their  house  every  Wednesday.  In  the  meantime 
my  mother  has  been  in  great  danger — erysipelas — 
and  my  son  is  still  the  little  captive  of  the  Maut£s ! " 

The  following  letter  is  more  tranquil  in  tone. 
Verlaine  wrote  like  a  man  who  has  reasoned  him- 
self into  resignation.  It  will  be  seen  that  he  looked 


260  PAUL  VERLAINE 

forward  to  a  new  establishment,  a  recommencement 
of  life  in  double  harness,  a  plan  which  was  not  to 
be  realised  until  just  before  his  death  : 

"  First  of  all  my  felicitations  on  the  birth  of  a 
little  daughter.  May  she  have  a  happier  fate  than 
my  little  stolen  one  !  Amen  ! 

4 'My  life  is  going  to  be  changed.  Rimbaud 
returns  this  week  to  Charleville,  and  my  mother 
comes  here.  Her  presence  will  not  only  give  me 
immense  pleasure,  but  be  very  useful  from  the  point 
of  view  of  respectability.  It  is  probable  that  we 
shall  take  a  little  house  in  a  cheap  district ;  there 
are  many  such.  Living  is  a  hundred  times  dearer 
than  in  Paris,  but  the  climate  a  hundred  times 
healthier  and  house-room  infinitely  easier  to  find. 
Then  my  life  will  become  happy  again,  and  having 
put  those  wretched  people  entirely  out  of  my  mind, 
I  shall  regain  tranquillity,  and,  who  knows,  perhaps, 
another  home.  Dame !  they  have  authorised  me 
to  any  revenge. 

"I  do  not  see  why,  after  having  suffered, 
entreated,  and  forgiven  so  much,  been  attacked  in 
monstrous  fashion,  and  my  venerated  mother 
insulted  and  wounded  in  her  most  sensitive  feelings 
by  every  kind  of  ingratitude,  I  should  renounce 
the  joys  of  honest  love,  although  M.  the  Mayor  of 
Montmartre  may  not  sanction  it.  Only  three  months 
ago  I  should  not  have  talked  thus,  but  since  then 
so  many  injuries  have  disillusioned  me,  so  many 
masks  have  been  thrown  off,  and  so  much  perfidy 
has  been  cynically  revealed,  that  in  truth  I  fear 
everything  will  be  completely  ended  and  nothing 
remain  for  me  (except  for  some  miracle  which  I  shall 
not  invoke,  disgusted  as  I  am  with  my  own  credulity) 
save  to  accept  my  position  in  courageous  honest 
fashion,  baffled,  but  in  time  to  scorn  my  present 
sorrow. 


LONDON  SKETCHES  261 

"  Here   I  am,   you  will  say,  a  regular  resident 
in    England  to   be   pouring   out   on    this   country, 
so    many    grievances    (partly   legitimate).       What 
knowledge  have  I   acquired  ?     Well,   mon  Dieu,  I 
mentioned  to  you,   I  believe,  in  one  of  my  letters, 
my  search  for  what  is  best  in  the  English  character. 
I    believe   I   have  found    it ;  it  is  something  very 
sweet,  almost  childlike,  very  youthful,  very  innocent, 
with    an   amusing    and    charming    roughness   and 
gaiety.     In  order  to  find  all  this  one  must  sink  an 
artesian  well  right  through  prejudice  and  custom  ; 
evidently  these  people  do  not  appreciate  us  ;  they 
are  less  kind  than  we  are  in  the  sense  that  they 
are   less   courteous,    and   they   have    a    provoking 
individuality   of  soul,   heart,   and   mind  ;    but   this 
individuality  is  really  excellent,  and  there  is  in  this 
egoism  of  theirs  very  great  ingenuousness.     Their 
absurdity  has  nothing  odious  in  it.      Family  life, 
which  is  stupid  in  France  because  it  is  feeble,  is 
organised    in    such  a    way    here    that    the    most 
Bohemian  can  take  part  in  it.     These  observations 
are  the  result  of  all   I  have  been  told,   and  even 
heard  sung  in  the  music-halls — an  admirable  mine 
of  information  on  real  life  in  all  countries,  are  they 
not  ? — and  also  of  all  I  have  learned  from  the  people 
I  know  here.     It  goes  without  saying  that  I  scrawl 
you  this  edifying  paragraph  with  reservations  and 
without  prejudice  to  more  extended  studies  which 
might    modify    my    views.       Nothing    new    here 
except  the  presence  among  other  French  pictures 
(by    Manet,    Monet,    Harpignies,    Renoir,   etc.),   of 
Fantin's    Coin  de   Table.      We   went   to   see   our- 
selves.    It  has  been  bought  for  ^"400  by  a   rich 
Manchester  man.     Fantin  for  ever!     There  were 
ten  flower  pictures  sold  proportionately  well. 

"  I  am  going  to  take  to  the  printer  the  Romances 
sans  Paroles,  four  parts  —  Pay  sages  Beiges — Nuit 


26S  PAUL   VERLAINE 

falote   (eighteenth   century  popular   song)  —  Birds 
in  the  Night,  with  this  for  inscription  : 

"  *  En  robe  grise  et  verte  avec  des  ruches, 
Un  jour  de  juin  que  j'&ais  soucieux, 
Elle  apparut  souriante  a  mes  yeux, 
Qui  Padmiraient  sans  redouter  d'embuches,' 

about  400  lines  in  all ;   it  will  appear  in  January 

1873." 

Rimbaud  had  left  his  friend.  The  adventurous 
youth,  already  practical  and  very  selfish,  considered 
that  there  was  nothing  more  to  be  done  in  England. 
He  had  turned  to  advantage  his  stay  in  London 
at  Verlaine's  expense.  He  had  frequented  the 
British  Museum  as  much  as  the  taverns,  had  been 
initiated  in  British  customs,  had  learned  English, 
acquired  experience,  and  had,  as  it  were,  served 
an  apprenticeship  to  his  future  career  as  explorer, 
merchant,  and  business  man.  This  stay  in  London 
was  very  useful  to  him,  and  transformed  him  into 
a  practical  man,  apt  in  commercial  matters. 

Verlaine,  separated  from  one  from  whom  he 
was  considered  inseparable,  was  seized  with  ennui 
in  his  London  isolation.  He  ceased  sending  me 
humorous  sketches.  He  suffered  from  a  double 
nostalgia.  Rimbaud's  departure  left  him  entirely 
alone  with  his  thoughts,  and  the  remembrance  of 
his  wife  and  anxiety  regarding  the  case  then  pro- 
ceeding rendered  solitude  and  exile  intolerable. 
He  fell  ill  and  thought  he  was  going  to  die.  He 
telegraphed  to  his  mother,  his  wife,  and  Rimbaud, 
begging  them  to  come  to  him.  He  informed  me, 
but  only  after  several  days,  of  his  illness  and  state 
of  mind,  as  follows  : 


LONDON  SKETCHES  263 

"  If  I  have  not  written  to  you  it  is  solely  because 
I  did  not  know  your  new  address,  otherwise  you 
would  have  received  eight  days  ago,  at  the  same 
time  as  two  or  three  others  whom  I  consider  my 
serious  friends,  a  sort  of  farewell  letter,  in  which  I 
bade  them  good-bye.  At  the  same  time  I  tele- 
graphed to  my  wife  to  come  quickly,  for  I  felt 
myself  at  the  point  of  death.  My  mother  alone 
came,  and  from  her  I  received  your  address.  Two 
days  afterwards  Rimbaud,  who  left  here  more  than 
a  month  ago,  arrived,  and  his  good  care,  com- 
bined with  that  of  my  mother  and  my  cousin,  has 
succeeded  in  saving  me  this  time,  not  from  certain 
death,  but  from  a  crisis  which  would  probably  have 
been  mortal  in  solitude.  Do  write  to  me.  I  have 
great  need  of  friendly  affection.  Tell  me  all  that 
is  going  on  ...  My  weakness  is  extreme." 

Uneasy  at  the  physical  and  moral  state  of  my 
friend,  I  hastened  to  write  to  him.  He  reassured 
me  as  follows : 

"Many  thanks  for  your  cordial  letter.  I  still 
continue  to  improve,  although  my  health  may  be 
always  very  precarious,  so  much  so  that  I  fear — 
shall  I  say  I  fear  or  I  hope  ? — I  shall  not  live  very 
long.  My  life  has  been  broken  by  a  thousand 
treacherous  and  gross  injuries,  and  without  being  a 
regular  sensitive  plant,  it  has  killed  me  by  degrees. 
However,  now  that  I  have  drunk  the  cup  to  the 
dregs,  and  done  my  utmost  to  cure  my  wretched 
wife  of  her  madness,  I  have  attained,  if  not  the 
serenity,  at  least  the  resignation  of  a  just  man. 
Since  they  drive  me  into  a  corner,  I  will  go  on  with 
the  affair  and  get  together  a  report  (will  you  take 
it  in  hand  as  soon  as  you  can  ?),  and  meanwhile  I 
will  work  tenaciously !  .  .  . 

"  Although  I  want  to  learn  English,  and  Paris 
repels  me  immensely,  I  would  follow  your  advice 


264  PAUL  VERLAINE 

and  return  there,  were  it  not  for  the  certainty 
that  I  should  run  the  greatest  risks.  Besides  the 
obliging  'attentions'  of  the  people  of  the  Rue 
Nicolet,  I  have  proofs  that  the  military  authorities 
intend  to  pursue  all  those  whom  civil  justice  has 
spared.  These  proofs  have  been  given  me  by  an 
ex-clerk  from  the  Municipal  Offices  who  escaped 
only  by  flight  hither  from  a  summons  against  all 
those  who  remained.  .  .  .  The  death  of  the  great 
man  (Thiers)  cries  for  vengeance,  and  the  Gaveaus 
(Commandant  Gaveau)  remaining  believe  they 
will  render  honour  to  his  ashes  by  pursuing  those 
Communists  not  yet  imprisoned.  It  is  very  serious, 
and  I  give  you  this  information  in  return  for  your 
advice,  which  is  certainly  good ;  I  shall  follow  it 
directly  prudence  permits  me." 

Verlaine's  mother,  who  had  come  over  to  her 
son  in  London,  was  now  about  to  return.  She 
begged  him  to  come  back  to  France,  reassuring 
him,  on  the  strength  of  information  received  from 
me  and  other  friends  —  as  to  the  danger  of  a 
political  prosecution,  and  giving  him  to  under- 
stand that  a  reconciliation  with  the  Haute*  family 
was  possible.  Verlaine  hesitated.  His  mother's 
departure  leaving  him  anew  in  the  noisy  isolation 
of  London,  for  Rimbaud  had  returned  to  Charle- 
ville,  lured  him  to  re-enter  France.  He  wrote 
to  me  on  the  subject,  at  the  beginning  of  1873, 
informing  me  of  his  apprehensions  as  to  the  recep- 
tion he  would  meet  with  in  Paris  : 

"  I  profit  by  my  mother's  return  to  Paris  to 
send  you  these  words.  Will  you  when  you  reply 
advise  me  on  certain  points?  I  intend  to  return 
to  Paris  shortly,  in  order  to  wind  up  matters.  I 


LONDON  SKETCHES  265 

count  on  your  assistance  in  this  task,  for  you  know 
my  prodigious  inexperience.  Only  I  would  wish 
to  be  informed  who  is  for  or  against  me  among 
our  friends,  so  as  to  avoid  any  unpleasantness, 
and  to  know  to  whom  I  can  hold  out  my  hand. 
Write  me,  therefore,  fully  on  the  subject  Tell  me, 
also,  if  there  is  any  way  of  accelerating  matters  ; 
they  threaten  to  become  ridiculous,  all  the  more 
so  because  my  defence  is  so  simple.  Denial  pure 
and  simple  of  everything,  and  defiance  of  their 
being  able  to  furnish  proofs  or  witnesses,  and  finally, 
the  supreme  thing  :  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  live 
with  the  Maute"s,  and  my  wife  prefers  to  break  her 
marriage  rather  than  give  in  to  me  on  this  point." 

He  left  Paris  soon  afterwards,  doubtless  because 
of  the  state  of  his  health  and  the  need  of  change 
of  air,  but  he  also  secretly  hoped  that  his  wife  would 
consent  to  an  interview  in  Belgium,  and  that  in  the 
new  surroundings  among  which  she  would  find  her- 
self with  him,  far  from  the  influence  of  her  family 
and  the  memories  of  the  Rue  Nicolet,  disunion  would 
cease,  the  case  be  abandoned  and  life  in  common  be 
resumed.  It  was  an  illusion  certainly,  but  it  decided 
Verlaine  to  leave  England  at  the  beginning  of  the 
spring  of  1873  f°r  Jehonville,  in  Belgian  Luxem- 
bourg, to  stay  with  his  aunt,  Mme.  Evrard. 


CHAPTER  X 

IN    THE   NORTH — ATTEMPTS   AT   RECONCILIATION — 
PLANS   FOR   WORK 

(April-June   1873) 

AT  J^honville,  where  his  mother  promised  to  rejoin 
him  after  her  return  from  Arras,  whither  she  was 
called  by  family  affairs,  Verlaine  resumed  the  free, 
tranquil,  country  life  he  loved,  and  of  which  he  had 
for  long  been  deprived. 

He  described  in  his  Croquis  de  Belgiquey 
published  by  the  Revue  Encyclope'dique  in  May 
1 88 1,  this  northern  district,  the  scenery  of  which 
charmed  him,  celebrating  its  green  of  every  tint 
with  the  blue  sky  for  background,  and  vaunting 
the  trout  of  the  Semoy,  which  he  qualified  as 
" divine"  and  "  clerical"  because  eaten  in  the 
society  of  the  curd  of  the  place.  Rambles  in  this 
picturesque  country,  the  health  -  giving  breath  of 
the  forests,  the  encircling  quietude,  the  wholesome 
food,  and  the  simple  friendly  companionship  of 
relations  and  friends  who  had  known  his  father 
well,  recalled  to  him  the  happy  holidays  spent  at 
Paliseul  with  his  kind  Aunt  Grandjean,  and  re- 
established his  moral  and  physical  health.  Some 
fine  days  he  spent  there  —  the  last ;  deceptive 
gleams  of  sunshine  before  the  storm.  He  wrote  as 
follows : 

266 


IN  THE   NORTH  267 

"J£HONVILLE,  \$th  May  1873. 

"  I  do  not  know  if  you  are  aware  of  my  absence 
from  London,  but  it  is  only  temporary,  for  it  is 
only  too  certain  that  Paris  and  France  will  be 
dangerous  for  me  for  a  long  time  to  come.  An 
attempt  to  cross  from  Newhaven  to  Dieppe 
abundantly  proved  to  me  this  sad  fact,  and  I  only 
owe  it  to  providential  chance  ...  to  a  conversa- 
tion in  English  overheard  on  the  boat,  an  hour 
before  departure,  between  some  men  .  .  .  with 
black  moustaches,  that  I  am  not  now  bemoaning 
on  damp  straw  in  la  belle  France,  the  dungeons  of 
our  Republic. 

"  Therefore,  Paris  being  unhealthy  for  me,  I  see 
only  London  in  which  to  make  hay  while  the  sun 
shines,  and  even  here  I  am  studying  English  with 
all  my  might ;  indeed,  it  is  a  powerful  diversion 
from  all  conjugal  and  other  worries. 

"My  friend,  I  am  going  to  speak  seriously. 
You  have  in  your  rare  letters  evinced  too  much 
real  interest  for  me  to  ask  new  and  solid  proof 
of  it.  The  commission  with  which  I  wish  to 
charge  you  is,  moreover,  exceedingly  simple  ;  viz., 
to  answer  as  quickly  and  fully  as  possible  the 
following  questions  : — 

"(i)  You  must  know,  from  denunciations  and 
indiscretions,  my  wife's  position.  Young  Barrere, 
(our  present  Ambassador  in  Rome)  .  .  .  said  to  me 
lately  on  your  behalf  *  that  she  was  not  far  from 
a  reconciliation ' ;  but  I  thought  this  was  merely 
a  delicate  and  discreet  remark  of  yours  to  prevent 
and  close  all  conversation  on  the  subject.  On  the 
other  hand  I  was  told  (permit  me  to  keep  silence 
with  regard  to  my  informants),  that  it  was  not  only 
time,  but  high  time  I  returned,  no  explanation  being 
added.  Therefore  I  risked  the  journey  to  Paris, 
so  unfortunately  prevented. 


268  PAUL  VERLAINE 

"A  letter  from  my  wife,  received  at  Namur, 
where,  by  the  way,  I  again  believed  myself  about 
to  die  from  some  sort  of  brain  attack  (say  nothing 
about  it,  especially  to  my  mother!),  intimated  to 
me  not  to  worry  her  with  any  more  letters.  I 
must  tell  you  that  I  have  never  ceased  to  represent 
to  her,  in  the  most  reasonable  and  touching  terms, 
all  the  odium,  ridicule,  and  futility  of  a  law-suit 
which  it  seems  to  me  I  must  win. 

"  It  is  beyond  a  doubt  that  such  a  change  of 
front  on  the  part  of  this  child  of  nineteen — for 
before  the  incident  at  Brussels,  of  which  I  have 
spoken  to  you,  there  were,  in  her  letters  at  least, 
after  my  departure  be  it  understood,  nothing  but 
affectionate  protestations  and  endless  appeals,  to 
which  I  never  opposed  anything  on  my  side  but 
appeals  also,  already  fearing  what  has  come  to 
pass,  and  protestations  no  less  affectionate — it  is 
beyond  a  doubt,  I  say,  that  this  change  of  front, 
which  has  entailed  the  abrupt  abandonment  of  my 
mother,  already  ill  with  worry  over  the  matter,  is 
simply  a  family  affair  or  some  infatuation  which 
supposes  excessive  foolishness.  God  preserve  me 
from  casting  suspicion,  but,  unhappily,  I  know  the 
house,  the  *  new '  ideas,  the  *  artistic '  environment, 
the  atmosphere  of  '  vanquished  prejudice '  in  which 
the  strange  witch  moves.  Others  in  my  place 
might  watch  with  a  certain  joy  for  the  moment  of 
the  inevitable  crisis,  and  make  ready  to  meet  it. 
But  I  am  not  of  such ;  for  with  all  my  silly  head 
and  my  eccentric  ways,  I  am  sober  at  bottom,  and 
was  intended  indeed  for  tranquil  happiness  and 
peaceful  affection.  The  matter  is  too  serious — is 
it  not  ? — for  me  to  have  to  recommend  you  to  use 
every  discretion. 

"(2)  I  long  to  know  the  general  opinion. 

"(3)  You  must  know  that  I  attach  a  great  deal 
of  importance  to  the   publication   of  the   volume, 


IN  THE  NORTH  269 

Romances  sans  Paroles,  before  the  case  comes  on, 
for  afterwards  it  might  seem  that  I  wish  to  profit 
by  the  advertisement. 

"Can  I  get  Lachaud,  or  Dentu,  no  matter 
which — I  have  too  many  enemies,  why,  Heaven 
knows !  to  think  of  Lemerre — to  print  quickly,  in 
modest  fashion  .  .  .  468  purely  literary  lines  ? 
Above  all,  will  you  have  time  (I  do  not  doubt 
your  willingness)  to  take  the  matter  in  hand,  and 
send  me  the  proofs?  Who  else  is  there?  Blemont? 
but  I  believe  he  too  is  greatly  occupied." 

This  letter  indicates  that  Verlaine  had  a  certain 
idea  in  his  head.  He  asks  for  particular  informa- 
tion after  the  manner  of  matrimonial  detectives. 
I  hastened  to  assure  him  that  I  had  learned 
nothing  suspicious  regarding  his  wife.  I  should 
have  been  very  careful  to  keep  from  him  any 
evil  gossip  or  food  for  scandal,  if  such  had  existed. 
He  would  have  been  informed  of  it  soon  enough, 
and  there  was  no  need  to  excite  or  overwhelm 
him;  but,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  there  was  nothing 
to  conceal.  Mme.  Mathilde  Verlaine  was  living 
with  her  family.  If  she  had  nothing  to  fear 
from  private  investigation,  on  the  other  hand  she 
appeared  in  no  way  animated  by  a  desire  for 
reconciliation,  nor  for  the  return  of  her  husband. 
She  seemed  satisfied  with  the  existing  state  of 
affairs,  and  happy  in  an  expected  deliverance. 

In  his  next  letter  he  seemed  pacified,  and 
almost  confident  of  a  favourable  outcome.  It 
will  be  remarked  that,  as  a  consequence  of  his 
mind  being  set  at  rest  as  to  his  wife,  he  conceived 
an  abundance  of  literary  projects  which  he  confided 
to  me,  at  the  same  time  evincing  a  desire  for 


270  PAUL  VERLAINE 

haste  with  regard  to  the  publication  of  the 
Romances  sans  Paroles.  He  was  undecided  how 
to  behave  to  his  wife.  He  always  secretly  hoped 
for  a  reconciliation.  His  mother  had  almost 
guaranteed  it.  The  departure  of  Rimbaud  con- 
tributed to  the  uncertainty.  Mme.  Verlaine  and 
her  advice,  however,  in  no  way  disarmed  him.  I 
begged  Verlaine  to  engage  a  business  man  to 
watch  over  his  interests,  take  note  of  the  progress 
of  the  affair,  and  act  as  a  go-between  at  inter- 
views with  lawyers,  barristers,  etc.,  as  it  was  im- 
possible for  me  to  take  the  matter  in  hand.  I 
was  on  the  point  of  leaving  Paris  for  Sens,  to 
edit  a  newspaper  which  had  formerly  been  run 
in  Paris,  but  having  been  suppressed  by  General 
Ladmirault  in  consequence  of  the  siege,  we  had 
revived  it,  with  Valentin  Simond  as  manager,  at 
Sens,  that  place  being  near  Paris  and  yet  outside 
the  zone  under  martial  law.  My  enforced  stay  at 
Sens  and  the  installation  there  of  printing  offices 
for  the  daily  publication  of  Le  Suffrage  Universe  I 
had  a  direct  effect  upon  the  history  of  Verlaine's 
works,  for  there  it  was  that  I  was  able  to  print 
and  publish  the  Romances  sans  Paroles. 
Verlaine  wrote  to  me  from  Jehonville  : 

11 6th  May  1873. 

"  I  received  a  letter  from  M.  B.  .  .  .  offering 
his  services.  Recommended  by  you  he  is  accepted  ; 
you  can  tell  him  so.  But  before  entering  into 
relations  with  him  I  want  to  know  from  you — what 
I  asked  you  in  a  letter  still  unanswered  some  time 
ago — what  is  being  said  .  .  .  about  my  wife?  I 
am  at  this  moment  preparing  a  memoir  which, 
extremely  detailed  as  it  is,  will  be  inefficient  if  I 


ATTEMPTS  AT  RECONCILIATION          271 

remain  in  ignorance  of  what  concerns  my  wife, 
and  distressing  to  me  supposing  there  is  any  hope 
whatever  for  me.  I  beg  you  to  write  to  me 
quickly  if  only  two  lines,  telling  me  what  you  know 
and  what  you  think.  It  will  be  of  more  than  a 
service !  That  is  why  I  beg  for  no  delay.  As 
soon  as  it  is  received  I  will  write  to  M.  B.  .  .  .  As 
to  the  report,  I  believe  he  has  all  the  materials  in 
hand." 

The  hope  of  a  reconciliation  was  always  present 
with  Verlaine  in  the  tranquillity  of  the  country,  and 
while  he  cast  his  line  into  the  cold  and  rapid  current 
of  the  Semoy  which  sheltered  trout  in  its  deep  holes, 
he  considered  the  situation  and  thought  incessantly 
about  his  wife.  It  is  evident  he  longed  for  pardon, 
forgetfulness,  reunion.  Also  the  idea  that  she 
might  have  given  him  a  successor  haunted  and 
tormented  him.  Like  all  who  are  jealous,  he  pre- 
tended he  wanted  the  real  truth,  were  it  ever  so 
unpleasant ;  but  a  revelation  of  infidelity  on  the 
part  of  her  whom  he  always  considered  his  wife,  his 
legal  property,  would  have  reduced  him  to  despair. 

"J£HONVILLE,   i6th  May  1873. 

"I  received  yesterday  your  letter  of  the  I2th, 
delayed  by  these  indolent  Belgians!  I  am  happy 
in  your  assurance  of  the  lack  of  gossip,  evident 
symptom  that  all  is  well. 

"  What  I  want  now  is  very  simple  ;  listen  : 
"After  more  than  six  months  of  actual  separation, 
without  there  having  been  on  my  part  the  slightest 
desire  for  it,  but  the  contrary,  after  a  judgment 
which  takes  away  from  me  all  power  over  my  wife 
and  son  for  an  indefinite  period ;  and,  lastly,  after 
all  the  rumours  which  have  been  circulated  in 
conversation  and  on  stamped  paper,  I  believe  that 


272  PAUL  VERLAINE 

an  amicable  separation,  besides  not  preventing  my 
adversaries  from  again  resorting  to  legal  proceed- 
ings, under  such  circumstances  nothing  more  nor 
less  than  blackmail,  would  be  a  half  measure  equal 
on  my  part  to  a  tacit  acknowledgment.  In  a  word, 
it  is  impossible.  What  I  require  is,  I  won't  call  it 
a  reconciliation,  for  I  have  never  been  '  angry ' — 
my  wife's  immediate  return  to  me.  I  have  written 
to  her  quite  recently  to  this  effect,  warning  her  that 
this  is  the  last  time.  I  await  her  reply,  and  it  is 
clear  that  if  she  does  not  give  me  satisfaction  in 
a  very  short  time,  I  shall  be  forced  to  take  further 
steps,  for  it  would  be  too  ridiculous  for  me  to  wear 
out  my  life  in  a  suspense  equally  prolonged  and  cruel. 
"  I  have  said  everything,  done  everything,  I  have 
left  London  and  the  promise  of  a  competence,  to 
come  here  for  Her.  I  have  entreated,  reasoned, 
and  appealed  to  her  good  sense,  heart,  and  even 
maternal  love.  I  have  been  answered  that  I  was 
afraid  of  the  Law  and  therefore  I  said  affectionate 
things ;  that  she  was  not  afraid  of  the  Law,  because 
she  knew  herself  to  be  quite  secure.  Now,  you 
know  the  purport  of  their  second  demand — the  re- 
jected exaction  of  a  friendly  pension  of  1,200  francs, 
just  as  you  know  that  the  motive  of  the  first  demand 
is  my  refusal  of  an  authorisation  to  live  for  an 
indefinite  period  in  a  problematic  south.  If,  there- 
fore, you  see  Mme.  Bertaux  (Mme.  L£on  Bertaux, 
the  sculptor) — even  go  to  see  her  if  you  can — tell 
her  if  she  sees  my  wife,  and  gets  a  favourable 
opportunity,  to  put  plainly  before  her  all  the  mad- 
ness, immodesty,  carelessness  of  the  future  of  her 
son,  unhappiness  for  herself,  for  me,  and  for  the 
child,  which  the  pursuance  of  a  line  of  action  so 
revolting  as  this  abominable  and  grotesque  law-suit 
would  imply  and  evince.  Mme.  Bertaux  might 
add  that  if  they  render  me  desperate  to  such  an 
extent,  I  am  determined  to  defend  myself  to  the 


ATTEMPTS  AT  RECONCILIATION         273 

utmost  of  my  power ;  that  I  on  my  part  believe 
myself  secure,  but  that  nevertheless  I  fear  a  law-suit, 
because  I  know  the  happiness  of  both  of  us  would 
have  to  give  place  to  every  kind  of  remorse  for  her 
and  regret  for  me.  There  it  is  ! 

"  At  the  same  time,  if  you  see  any  better  course, 
please  advise  me. 

"  My  health  is  altogether  disordered.  Ah !  if 
I  had  a  happy  heart  my  head  would  be  well  enough. 

"  My  brain  is  swarming  with  new  ideas  in  poetry, 
truly  fine  plans.  I  have  done  a  prose  drama  .  .  . 
Madame  Aubin, — a  sublime  deceived  husband,  not 
like  Jacques,  but  an  extremely  sarcastic  modern, 
who  could  give  points  to  all  the  swindlers  of 
Dumafisse.  I  am  finishing  an  Optra  -  bouffe, 
eighteenth  century,  begun  two  or  three  years  ago 
with  Sivry.  That,  with  the  music  yet  to  be  com- 
posed, will  be  for  the  Alcazar  of  Brussels,  where 
were  produced  Les  Cent  Vierges  and  La  Fille  de 
Madame  Angot.  Then  I  contemplate  a  prose 
romance  ...  to  be  very  crisply  written — a  series 
of  sonnets  in  which  Les  Amies  (if  you  can  re-copy 
them,  send  them  to  me)  will  be  included,  and  of 
which  I  send  you  the  prologue  in  the  rough,  but 
sufficiently  explanatory  of  the  work  I  believe  ; — and 
the  preface  to  Les  Vaincus  ...  in  which  I  explain 
some  of  my  ideas  I  think  good  ;  I  will  send  it  to  you 
one  day,  and  you  will  see  it  is  good.  All  this  means, 
I  think,  some  work. 

"  I  should  like  as  soon  as  my  head  is  all  right, 
to  compose  a  book  of  poems  .  .  .  didactic  poems, 
if  you  like,  from  which  *  Man '  will  be  completely 
banished.  Landscapes,  things,  the  mischief  of 
things  (if  you  have  the  book  with  this  title  by 
Arthur  de  Gravillon  send  it  to  me),  the  goodness 
of  things,  etc. 

"  Here  are  some  titles :  La  Vie  du  Grenier, 
Sous  !Eau>  LIle< 


£74  PAUL  VERLAINE 

"  Each  poem  will  contain  300  or  400  lines.  The 
lines  will  be  in  accordance  with  a  system  I  have 
worked  out ;  very  musical,  without  Poe's  puerilities, 
yet  as  ingenuous  as  that  rogue's.  I  will  talk  to  you 
about  him  another  day.  I  have  read  all  his  work  in 
English.  It  will  be  as  picturesque  as  possible — 
La  Vie  du  Grenier  of  Rembrandt ;  Sous  lEau,  a 
genuine  Undine  song ;  L'lle,  a  great  flower  picture, 
etc.  Do  not  laugh  before  you  know  my  system.  It 
is  perhaps  a  foolish  idea  after  all.  You  will  receive 
on  Tuesday  or  Wednesday  the  manuscript  (of  the 
Romances  sans  Paroles}.  Before  you  acknowledge 
it  talk  to  Lechevalier  a  little  about  price,  etc.,  etc. 
I  could  write  to  him.  What  do  you  say  ?  I  should 
like  the  format  to  be  the  same  as  that  of  La  Bonne 
Chanson  (Ah!  zut!)  If  it  could  appear  soon,  what 
luck!  Finally,  I  confide  this  child  to  you,  make 
it  'happy'!" 

The  Romances  sans  Paroles,  which  Verlaine  had 
not  been  able  to  get  published  in  London  as  he 
had  announced  in  one  of  his  letters,  did  not  find 
a  publisher  in  Paris.  Lechevalier,  to  whom  I 
applied  in  accordance  with  Verlaine's  wishes, 
refused.  Other  publishers  I  approached  also 
answered  in  the  negative.  I  kept  the  manuscript, 
awaiting  an  opportunity.  The  times  were  not 
propitious  ;  we  were  in  the  midst  of  a  parliamentary 
upheaval.  M.  Thiers  had  been  deposed,  and,  at 
Versailles,  royalty  had  nearly  issued,  for  an  instant, 
from  its  tomb. 

The  conjugal  affairs  of  the  poet  were  scarcely 
better.  His  projects  of  reconciliation  had  vanished. 
Stamped  paper  was  flying  about,  and  judgment  of 
the  civil  courts  pronouncing  a  separation,  for 
divorce  as  yet  did  not  exist,  was  expected.  Arthur 


PLANS  FOR  WORK  275 

Rimbaud,  recalled  by  Verlaine,  had  rejoined  him 
at  Bouillon,  his  return  being  celebrated  by  a 
serious  bout  of  drunkenness.  Verlaine  and  his 
companion  wandered  for  some  time  in  the 
Ardennes,  and  then  set  out  for  England,  which 
they  both  desired  to  revisit. 

The  following  letters  announce  this  return  to 

London  : 

"J&HONVILLE,  igth  May  1873. 

"  You  will  receive  at  the  same  time  as  this 
letter  the  famous  manuscript  (of  the  Romances 
sans  Paroles).  As  soon  as  you  can,  put  it  in  hand. 
Hardly  show  it  to  the  comrades,  and  acquaint  me 
with  the  intentions  of  this  Chevalier  or  Claye.  .  .  . 
Mine  are  solvency,  scrupulous  honesty,  and  the 
desire  for  publicity.  I  ask  of  him  moderation  in 
price — credit,  if  possible,  though,  if  necessary,  I  will 
pay  cash.  ...  It  has  been  thoroughly  revised. 
You  will  send  me  the  proofs  after  examination,  and 
I  will  return  them  to  you  on  the  following  day.  I 
should  like  it  to  be  done  quickly  ; — four  hundred  odd 
lines,  it  is  a  matter  of  fifteen  days.  I  particularly 
wish  the  book  to  be  dedicated  to  Rimbaud,  first  as  a 
protestation,  next  because  I  wrote  the  verses  when 
he  was  with  me,  urging  me  to  their  composition  ; 
and,  above  all,  as  a  token  of  gratitude  for  the 
devotion  and  affection  he  has  always  shown  me, 
particularly  when  I  was  at  the  point  of  death. 
The  law-suit  must  not  make  an  ingrate  of  me. 
You  understand?  However,  write  me  if  you  see 
any  objections  other  than  a  respect  for  others 
which  would  be  quite  misplaced.  I  intend  to 
return  to  London  in  a  week  and  will  send  you 
my  address." 

"  JEHONVILLE,  May  1873. 

"  I  set  out  to-morrow  for  Bouillon,  where  I 
have  an  appointment  with  some  comrades  from 


376  PAUL  VERLAINE 

M£zi£res  and  Charleville,  from  there  to  Liege,  a 
fine  town  unknown  to  me,  from  Liege  to  Antwerp, 
and  from  Antwerp  to  London,  eighteen  hours  by 
sea,  without  counting  the  Scheldt  and  the  Thames. 
But  it  is  cheap,  and  I  am  not  ill  on  the  sea.  I 
calculate  within  five  days  to  be  in  the  '  Fog's 
City.'  As  to  the  land  of  soup,  pomme  sautt, 
serpents  (police  officers),  and  fathers-in-law,  I  mean 
Paris,  I  shall  return  there  perhaps  in  the  autumn, 
once  I  know  English  thoroughly.  But  I  wish  to 
be  sure  that  I  shall  not  be  encircled  by  the  said 
serpents. 

"  All  that  any  one  can  have  a  grudge  against  me 
for  after  remaining  in  my  office  at  the  H6tel-de- 
Ville,  is  that  in  London  I  belonged  to  a  club  for 
'  Social  Studies,1  founded  by  Lissagaray,  and 
composed  of  Communists,  a  perfectly  inoffensive 
club  in  which  the  whole  of  my  participation  has 
been  the  requisite  'three  shillings  by  month.'  It 
is  true  that  I  was  proposed  by  Andrieu,  whom 
I  knew  long  before  my  political  days,  in  the  quality 
of  colleague  at  the  H6tel-de-Ville,  and  friend  of 
Valade  and  Me>at.  Then,  it  is  true,  I  have  seen 
Vermersch.  But  I  remember  the  time  when 
Copp£e  was  not  a  great  man,  in  the  days  of  the 
Cafe"  de  Suede.  All  this  constitutes  a  case  against 
me,  according  to  you  ?  Write.  Then  there  are  the 
Maute"s  and  their  lack  of  scruples.  See.  Write. 

"  Having  acquired  the  conviction  that  my  wife 
and  her  family  do  not  wish  to  come  to  any  under- 
standing, I  am  going  to  act  very  soon  and  very 
drastically.  You  shall  be  advised  in  time.  ..." 

"LONDON,  29^  May. 

11 1  arrived  here  the  day  before  yesterday  from 
Antwerp.  A  crossing  of  fifteen  hours  of  extra- 
ordinary beauty.  I  just  throw  this  into  the  box 
to  give  you  my  new  address.  .  .  . 

"8  GREAT  COLLEGE  STREET,  CAMDEN  TOWN,  N.W," 


PLANS  FOR  WORK  277 

I  received  the  manuscript  of  the  Romances  sans 
Paroles,  all  of  it  in  Verlaine's  own  handwriting,  on 
sheets  of  notepaper,  without  any  of  the  drawings, 
scratchings  out,  or  additions,  which  usually 
characterised  his  missives.  He  had  copied  it 
carefully,  remembering  the  time  when,  ex-pupil  of 
a  disciple  of  Brard  and  Saint-Omer,  he  announced 
to  me  triumphantly  that  he  had  just  passed  "his 
writing  examination  "  at  the  H6tel-de-Ville. 

Having  read,  with  an  interest  easy  to  under- 
stand, the  precious  manuscript,  I  sent  my  felicita- 
tions to  the  impatient  poet,  postponing  observations 
and  reservations,  particularly  as  regards  certain 
innovations  in  the  matter  of  rhymes,  etc.,  which 
might  appear  daring. 

He  instantly  replied  : 

"  I  am  enchanted  that  my  little  book  pleases 
you  in  spite  of  its  heresies  of  versification.  I  am 
preparing  you  many  others  equally  disconcerting, 
if  the  terrible  state  of  my  health  allows  me  to 
live  to  fill  in  the  work  of  which  I  wrote  to  you 
the  other  day.  To  speak  truth,  I  am  not  ill- 
satisfied  with  it,  although  it  is  very  far  from  what 
I  wished  to  make  it.  I  do  not  want  any  effort  to 
appear,  but  hope  to  arrive  as  soon  as  I  have 
completely  mastered  my  system  at  Glatigny's 
facility,  naturally  without  his  banality  and  by 
quite  different  methods.  I  am  tired  of  whining 
poetical  Jeremiads.  I  am  meditating  my  reform 
very  seriously  and  modestly.  .  .  .  Meanwhile  I  am 
reading  Alfred  de  Vigny  over  again.  Ah !  my 
friend,  what  a  man!  Poet  and  thinker,  he  heaps 
together  sublimity. 

" .  .  .  Some  words  in  Vermersch's  lecture. 
Subject :  Alfred  de  Vigny.  All  that  the  news- 
papers say  regarding  his  want  of  success  is  quite 


278  PAUL  VERLAINE 

false.  On  the  contrary,  he  is  a  very  great  success. 
Literally,  the  whole  French  colony  was  crowded 
into  the  room  at  Old  Crampton  Street.  An  error 
of  the  Rappel\  Vermersch's  wife  is  not  English 
but  Dutch,  she  is  not  a  governess  but  a  dressmaker. 
I  may  add  that  she  is  charming,  very  simple,  and 
that  it  is  a  case  of  true  love,  rara  avis. 

"  But  to  return  to  Gustave  (as  he  called  the 
Romances  sans  Paroles),  if  you  think  well :  cut,  but 
hear. 

11  None  the  less,  the  gossips  will  be  sure  to  find 
something  to  clamour  at ;  but  devil  take  me  if  in 
the  course  of  composition  I  considered  whether 
there  was  anything  imphame  (infamous)  or  infemme 
if  you  prefer.  The  short  pieces,  the  Piano,  etc.  .  .  . 
Oh  !  triste !  triste !  ttait  mon  dme  .  .  .  ,  and  fai 
peur  dun  baiser  .  .  .  ,  Beams,  and  others,  bear 
witness  to  necessity  (seeing  my  perfect  love  for  the 
sesque),  so  that  the  Notre  amour  nest-il  la  niche" 
cannot  be  reasonably  reproached  under  pretence 
of  Terre  Jaune  as  impossible  for  the  tongue  of 
honest  men.  Further,  what  is  there  audacious  in 
dedicating  a  volume  which  is  partly  impressions  of 
travel,  to  the  one  who  was  with  me  at  the  time  these 
impressions  were  received  ?  But  I  repeat,  if  you 
prefer,  censor  friend,  cut  (here  Verlaine,  in  accord- 
ance with  his  custom  of  illustrating  his  letters 
with  his  pen,  drew  a  pair  of  scissors,  emblem  of 
Anastasia).  And  since  we  are  on  the  subject 
of  names  for  dedication,  as  Petrus  Borel  said 
(another  whom  it  is  necessary  to  re-read),  will 
you  accept  in  Les  Vaincus  the  part  called  Sous 
f  Empire,  the  largest  in  the  volume,  and  contain- 
ing Le  Monstre,  Le  Grognard,  Soupe  du  Soir, 
Crtpuscule  du  Matin,  Les  Loups,  all  things  you 
know,  and  in  no  way  compromising?  The  things 
on  the  Commune  will  be  dedicated  to  some  pro- 
scribed friend." 


PLANS  FOR  WORK  279 

A  rapid  letter  at  the  beginning  of  June  1873  : 

"  I  only  write  you  a  word,  being  overwhelmed 
with  work,  to  scold  you  for  your  silence.  What 
has  become  of  Gustave  ?  I  do  not  see  why  politics 
should  interfere  with  this  frail  youth,  vowed  in 
advance  to  a  special  and  therefore  rare  sale. 

"  I  give  French  lessons,  which  brings  me  in 
something  between  100  and  150  francs  a  month.  .  .  . 
It  kills  me  with  ennui.  Great  point. 

"  What  of  the  report  ? 

"  Try  to  push  through  at  least  one  of  my  three 
volumes  (even  by  paying  extra),  and  forward  it 
to  me  here,  for  my  literature  lessons  by  a  poet.  It 
is  the  best  testimonial  for  the  hair-brained,  who 
pay  you  half  a  sovereign  for  each  lesson  on  versifi- 
cation and  the  'artifices  of  poetry.'  Therefore,  my 
commission  is  all  the  more  serious  and  urgent.  It 
is  understood  that  I  will  reimburse  you.  If  you 
cannot  take  it  in  hand  yourself,  and  you  see 
Blemont,  charge  him  with  it." 

This  letter  is  the  last  I  received  before  the 
catastrophe  at  Brussels.  There  was  no  fore- 
shadowing in  Verlaine's  tone  or  temper  of  the 
disasters  which  were  to  accumulate  so  unfortunately. 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE   TRIAL — CONDEMNED 
(1873) 

As  narrated  in  the  preceding  chapter,  Verlaine  and 
Rimbaud  were  together  in  London  in  June  1873, 
the  former  giving  French  lessons,  upon  the  returns 
from  which  he  lived,  largely  helped  by  subsidies 
from  his  mother.  A  quarrel  arose  between  the 
two  companions,  and  was  followed  by  others, 
occasioned  by  the  despotic  character  of  Rimbaud 
and  Verlaine's  nervous  and  capricious  temperament. 
Helped  on  by  drink,  these  disputes  quickly  assumed 
a  bitter  tone.  It  must  be  added  that  in  accordance 
with  the  proverb  which  explains  why  horses  fight 
so  readily  when  there  is  no  hay  in  the  manger, 
on  days  of  misfortune  the  two  comrades  found 
themselves  the  one  more  tormented,  and  the  other 
more  imperious. 

Suddenly  Verlaine,  like  a  prisoner  who  breaks 
his  chain  and  escapes,  left  London  and  embarked 
for  Antwerp  without  informing  Rimbaud,  or,  it 
appeared,  leaving  him  any  money.  This  flight  was 
an  unfortunate  proceeding.  Verlaine  ought  to  have 
acted  with  greater  deliberation,  and  brought  greater 
calm  and  energy  into  his  decision  if  he  wished  to 
renounce  the  onerous  and  troubling  company  of 

280 


THE  TRIAL 

Rimbaud.  He  had  only  to  signify  to  him  that 
he  had  had  enough  of  this  life  in  common,  giving 
occasion  for  calumny  and  furnishing  arguments  for 
the  law-suit  his  wife  was  projecting.  Rimbaud 
would  have  returned  to  his  mother  at  Charleville, 
as  he  had  done  before,  when  he  had  sufficiently 
mastered  the  English  language,  and  Verlaine  would 
have  gone  where  he  intended,  viz.,  Brussels. 

Why  did  Verlaine  take  the  sudden  and 
apparently  foolish  step  of  separating  himself  from 
Rimbaud,  probably  for  ever,  and  leaving  London, 
where  he  could  give  lessons,  in  order  to  return 
to  Belgium,  where  he  had  no  assured  occupation 
and  could  only  spend  money?  He  had  earned 
nothing  regular  for  nearly  two  years,  and  therefore 
lived  on  his  income,  and  that  being  insufficient, 
he  drew  upon  his  capital,  already  broken  into  for 
the  money  sent  him  by  his  mother. 

When  we  deal  with  Verlaine's  reported  poverty 
later  on,  it  will  be  necessary  to  remember  that 
although  his  small  fortune  sufficed  for  his  wants 
when  he  was  earning  a  regular  salary,  he  could 
not  live  solely  upon  it,  and  travel  continually. 
During  the  years  1871,  1872,  and  1873,  up  to  the 
month  of  July,  Verlaine  in  Belgium,  the  Ardennes 
and  England,  incurred  double  expenses,  Rimbaud 
being  without  money,  and  although  they  may  both 
have  lived  in  a  modest  way,  yet  they  never  denied 
themselves  at  taverns,  bars,  and  wine-shops,  which 
they  assiduously  frequented.  During  these  two 
and  a  half  years  Verlaine  certainly  spent  30,000 
francs  of  his  capital.  He  reflected  in  a  moment 
of  sobriety  and  wisdom  that  he  could  not  con- 
tinue to  live  in  this  way,  that  he  must  moderate 


PAUL  VERLAINE 

his  expenses  and  seek  another  mode  of  existence. 
Reconciliation  with  his  wife  appeared  to  him  the 
only  advantageous  issue  from  the  difficulty  in  which 
he  found  himself.  This  door  of  deliverance  must 
be  opened.  He  thought  to  facilitate  return  to  con- 
jugal life  by  breaking  away  thus  abruptly.  He  had 
not  sufficient  courage  to  arrange  the  affair.  In 
abandoning  Rimbaud  in  London  by  a  sudden  flight, 
he  intended  to  give  his  wife  a  pledge  that  he  desired 
to  terminate  the  friendship,  and  at  the  same  time 
render  practically  impossible  any  later  reunion  with 
the  companion,  until  now  regarded  as  inseparable. 

Perhaps  also  Verlaine  made  the  resolution,  the 
vigour  of  which  contrasted  with  his  customary 
feebleness,  in  an  access  of  alcoholic  excitement. 
Naturally  he  did  not  inform  me,  and  we  are 
reduced  to  conjectures  regarding  his  precipitate 
departure  and  abandonment  of  Rimbaud  and  of 
England,  which  was  shortly  afterwards  to  result 
in  the  quarrel  at  Brussels,  the  shot,  the  trial,  and 
the  condemnation. 

Verlaine's  psychological  state  at  this  period  was 
distressing,  almost  morbid.  I  have  already  said  that 
he  detested  and  adored  his  wife.  Alternately  he 
cried  for  her,  longed  for  her,  cursed  and  over- 
whelmed her  with  reproaches  arid  insults  from 
afar.  He  wrote  to  her  in  one  of  his  moments 
of  conjugal  nostalgia,  begging  her  to  rejoin  him  at 
Brussels,  promising  to  give  her  no  further  occasion 
for  reproach,  and  adding  that  he  would  kill  him- 
self if  she  did  not  respond  to  his  appeal.  Probably 
to  decide  her  he  announced  that  he  was  no  longer 
remaining  with  Rimbaud,  but  would  go  alone  to 
Belgium.  In  this  state  of  feverish  exaltation  he 


THE  TRIAL  285 

set  out.  His  mother  perhaps  in  her  touching  hope 
of  having  her  son  with  her  once  more  in  Paris,  out 
of  the  reach  of  the  irregularities  and  expenses  of 
life  abroad,  fostered  his  conjugal  illusions,  and 
caused  him  to  foresee  a  reconciliation  which  existed 
only  in  the  desires  of  the  good  lady,  and  thus 
influenced  his  flight  from  London  and  separation 
from  Rimbaud. 

Evidently  therefore  he  informed  her  of  his 
departure,  and  asked  for  a  meeting  with  his  wife. 
Arrived  at  Brussels  Verlaine  found  his  mother  at 
the  appointed  place,  but  suffered  a  cruel  disappoint- 
ment, for  she  had  to  tell  him  that  his  wife  refused 
to  respond  to  his  appeal ;  he  could  not,  for  the 
moment,  count  on  a  reconciliation.  Always  optim- 
istic and  consoling,  Mme.  Verlaine  entreated  her  son 
not  to  despair ;  time  would  perhaps  effect  a  change. 
It  was  necessary  to  be  patient,  and  above  all  not  to 
recommence  his  wandering  existence  with  Rimbaud. 

The  banality  of  these  consolations  and  the 
vagueness  of  these  hopes  excited  Verlaine.  He 
received  his  mother's  counsels  with  an  ill 
grace,  and  went  off  to  a  neighbouring  wine-shop, 
and  there  drank  steadily  to  drown  his  troubles. 
Under  the  double  influence  of  disappointment  and 
drunkenness,  animosity  against  his  wife  regained 
the  upper  hand,  his  affection  for  Rimbaud  revived, 
with  remorse  for  having  left  him  in  London  without 
a  sou,  and  he  despatched  a  telegram  to  his  evil 
genius,  asking  his  pardon,  and  begging  him  to 
rejoin  him  in  Brussels  in  order  to  resume  their 
previous  mode  of  existence.  Rimbaud  hastened 
to  respond  to  the  invitation,  but  with  no  intention 
of  taking  up  again  his  life  with  Verlaine.  The 


284  PAUL   VERLAINE 

intimacy,  while  it  no  longer  amused,  appeared  to 
him  insecure,  in  the  light  of  Verlaine's  recent 
desertion.  He  came  to  Brussels  solely  to  obtain  the 
subsidies  necessary  for  a  stay  in  Paris  he  projected. 
Verlaine,  irritated  by  the  idea,  refused  the  money, 
which  Rimbaud  had  already  vainly  endeavoured 
to  extort  from  Mme.  Verlaine.  A  violent  quarrel 
ensued,  ending  in  the  tragic  scene,  in  the  course  of 
which  the  poet  was  arrested  and  dragged  before 
the  Belgian  Courts.  Verlaine  described  this  scene 
half  humorously  in  his  book,  Mes  Prisons,  but 
his  narrative  is  incomplete.  Here  it  is  full  of 
extenuation  of  the  conduct  of  Rimbaud,  who  had 
caused  him  to  be  arrested.  Verlaine  was  always 
quick  to  repent. 

"In  July  1873,  in  Brussels,  during  a  dispute  in 
the  street  following  upon  two  revolver  shots,  the 
first  of  which  having  slightly  wounded  one  of 
the  parties,  friends,  pardon  had  been  immediately 
demanded  and  granted,  the  culprit,  still  excited  by 
absinthe,  said  something  so  energetically,  feeling 
meanwhile  in  the  right-hand  pocket  of  his  coat 
where  the  weapon  charged  with  four  remaining 
balls,  unlocked,  unfortunately  was,  in  such  a 
significant  fashion  that  the  other,  afraid,  ran  off 
as  fast  as  he  could  across  the  wide  road  (de  Hall, 
if  I  am  not  in  error),  followed  by  his  furious  friend, 
to  the  amazement  of  the  pons  pelches  in  their  mid- 
day apathy  under  a  blazing  sun. 

"A  police  officer  who  was  sauntering  by 
hastened  to  seize  both  delinquent  and  witness. 
After  a  very  summary  interrogation,  in  the  course 
of  which  the  aggressor  denounced  himself  rather 
than  that  the  other  accused  him,  both  escorted 
by  the  representative  of  armed  force  presented 


THE   TRIAL  285 

themselves  at  the  H6tel-de-Ville,  the  policeman 
holding  me  by  the  arm,  for  it  is  time  to  say  that 
I  was  the  author  of  the  outrage,  and  its  attempted 
repetition,  the  object  of  which  was  none  other  than 
that  Arthur  Rimbaud,  the  strange  and  great  poet, 
should  die  thus  unhappily  on  the  23rd  November 
last."  (1873). 

These  two  long  sentences  of  Mes  Prisons  do 
not  properly  convey  the  scene.  I  have  the  exact 
narrative  from  Verlaine's  mother,  the  only  witness 
of  the  accident — in  reality  this  act  of  violence, 
regretted  as  soon  as  committed,  was  a  mere  accident, 
a  tragic  mischance,  an  impulsive  and  unconscious 
action,  performed  in  the  mental  confusion  of  semi- 
intoxication.  Belgian  justice  sought  in  it  for  the 
elements  of  a  crime,  desiring  to  find  a  criminal 
where  there  was  nothing  but  an  imprudent  irre- 
sponsible being  momentarily  maddened  by  alcohol. 

Verlaine's  mother  made  a  third  in  the  small 
room  at  the  Liegeois  Hotel,  Brussels,  where  the 
two  men  quarrelled  on  the  occasion  of  Rimbaud's 
announcement  of  his  departure.  The  latter  asserted 
that  he  had  only  returned  with  the  firm  intention 
of  setting  off  again  immediately.  Money,  and  he 
turned  on  his  heels.  Both  were  under  the  influence 
of  drink.  Verlaine,  feebler  or  more  excited  by 
alcohol,  grew  irritated.  In  vain  his  mother  begged 
the  two  friends  to  sit  down  to  table  and  postpone 
their  explanation  until  the  following  day,  when  they 
would  be  calmer.  Rimbaud  would  not  hear  of  it. 
He  declared  in  his  ungracious  way  that  he  was 
going  to  set  out  at  once,  and  with  the  authoritative 
gesture  habitual  to  him,  added  that  he  must  have 
money.  He  kept  on  repeating,  in  a  sing  -  song 


286  PAUL   VERLAINE 

way,  like  a  music-hall  refrain,  his  imperative  demand 
for  "de  Tar-gent!  .  .  .  de  Tar-gent!  .  .  ." 

Verlaine  had  bought  a  revolver,  perhaps  with  a 
vague  intention  of  suicide,  tormented  as  he  was  by 
the  recollection  of  his  wife,  and  his  heart  tortured 
by  the  separation  which  her  refusal  to  meet  him 
at  Brussels  had  rendered  definite.  For  some  time 
miserable  hallucinations  had  surrounded  him,  and 
at  night  he  was  haunted  by  black  demons  set  loose 
by  the  fumes  of  alcohol.  In  an  impulse  towards 
violence  he  dragged  the  weapon  from  his  pocket 
and  pointed  it  in  the  direction  of  Rimbaud.  The 
movement  was  sufficiently  slow  to  permit  the  latter 
to  put  out  his  hand  instinctively  as  if  to  seize  the 
revolver.  The  first  ball  grazed  Rimbaud's  right 
wrist,  the  second,  fired  after  his  attempt  to  avert 
the  shot,  went  into  the  floor,  the  point  of  the  revolver 
being  lowered.  For  a  moment  the  three  personages 
in  this  scene  stood  motionless,  and  then  Mme. 
Verlaine  dragged  her  son  into  his  own  room.  He 
wept,  expressing  the  most  lively  regrets,  and  return- 
ing to  Rimbaud,  who  did  not  utter  a  word,  he  cried  : 
"  Take  the  revolver  and  kill  me  !  "  Mme.  Verlaine 
endeavoured  to  calm  the  two  young  men.  She 
bound  up  Rimbaud's  wrist,  and  at  his  urgency, 
for  he  would  not  relinquish  his  fixed  idea,  she 
gave  him  20  francs  to  return  to  his  mother  at 
Charleville.  It  was  believed  by  all  parties  that 
the  matter  was  terminated,  and  Rimbaud's  insigni- 
ficant scratch,  already  half  healed,  seemed  unlikely 
to  have  any  result  medical  or  legal. 

Rimbaud,  insisting  on  taking  the  next  train  back 
to  Charleville,  Verlaine  accompanied  him  to  the 
station,  and  on  the  way  thither  became  a  prey  to 


THE  TRIAL  287 

another  access  of  violent  excitement.  Rimbaud 
believed  that  at  a  certain  moment  he  was  fumbling 
in  his  pocket  for  his  revolver  for  another  shot. 
This,  at  least,  is  the  explanation  he  gave  afterwards. 
Whether  it  was  the  effect  of  fear  or  some  sort  of 
diabolical  machination,  quite  in  accordance  with 
his  character,  to  rid  himself  once  and  for  all  of 
Verlaine's  importunity,  Rimbaud  ran  towards  a 
policeman,  calling  out  "  An  assassin ! "  Verlaine 
followed  him  like  a  madman,  running,  gesticulating, 
shouting,  perhaps  threatening.  Rimbaud  pointed 
him  out  to  the  officer  and  he  was  arrested.  An 
explanation  at  the  police-station  followed,  Verlaine 
was  searched,  and  the  pistol  deemed  sufficient  proof  of 
attempted  assassination.  The  arrest  was  confirmed, 
the  weapon  confiscated,  Rimbaud's  complaint  lodged, 
and  the  unhappy  poet  imprisoned  in  1'Amigo,  while 
Rimbaud  callously  took  the  train  home,  dreaming  of 
new  wanderings  and  distant  adventures. 

Verlaine  was  transferred  to  the  prison  of  the 
Petits  Carmes  at  Brussels,  under  the  plea  of 
attempted  murder.  The  matter  became  serious. 
He  narrated  afterwards  with  much  good  humour 
his  interview  with  the  superintendent,  a  stout  little 
man  with  a  face  disappearing  among  grey  moustaches 
and  whiskers,  and  piercing  eyes  under  his  spectacles. 

This  functionary  held  a  letter  in  his  hand  as  he 
began  to  examine  the  prisoner.  He  said  politely : 
"  Will  you  kindly  sit  down,  M.  Verlaine ! "  which 
were  the  first  courteous  words  that  had  been 
addressed  to  the  poet  since  his  arrest.  Fresh  from 
his  sojourn  at  1'Amigo  and  the  rough  handling  of 
the  police,  the  poet  did  not  know  to  what  motive 
to  Attribute  this  unexpected  kindness  on  the  part 


288  PAUL  VERLAINE 

of  his  keeper.  The  explanation  was  soon  given  : 
"  I  have  just  read,  monsieur,  as  is  my  duty,"  said 
the  superintendent  solemnly,  "a  letter  addressed 
to  you,  and  I  am  astonished,  having  such  corres- 
pondents, to  see  you  here  ;  but  read  for  yourself!  " 
He  held  out  the  letter  to  the  prisoner.  It  was  a 
reply  to  a  hasty  and  desperate  appeal  he  had 
sent  to  Victor  Hugo,  to  intervene  on  his  behalf. 
Tormented  by  the  memory  of  all  France  held  dear 
for  him,  evoking  in  his  distress  his  broken  happiness, 
Verlaine  had  made  this  last  attempt,  begging 
Victor  Hugo  to  bring  his  great  authority  to  bear 
upon  the  hard-hearted  wife,  and  to  endeavour  to 
lead  her  to  an  unhappy  prisoner  who  implored 
grace,  pity,  and  pardon. 

The  great  man  replied  in  the  following  laconic 
rather  sibylline  note : 

"  MY  POOR  POET, — I  will  see  your  charming  wife, 
and  speak  to  her  for  you,  in  the  name  of  your  little 
boy.  Courage,  and  return  to  the  truth, 

"  VICTOR  HUGO." 

What  did  this  exhortation  to  return  to  the 
truth  signify  ?  To  what  did  it  allude  ?  Verlaine 
was  imprisoned  for  assault.  He  needed  to  be 
made  known  to  the  Belgian  authorities,  not  as 
the  vagabond,  drunkard,  suspected  Communist,  and 
man  of  ill  -  repute  he  was  designated  in  the 
famous  police  notes,  but  rather  the  nervous,  im- 
pressionable artist  incapable  of  a  bad  action, 
but  susceptible  of  being  led  into  an  excusable 
momentary  violence,  and,  moreover,  by  his  talents, 
his  social  position,  his  family  and  education,  not  to 
be  confounded  with  the  rogues  and  scoundrels  of 


THE  TRIAL  289 

Brabant.  What  place  was  there  in  all  this  for  the 
advice  to  return  to  any  truth  whatsoever  ?  Further, 
Verlaine  had  begged  Victor  Hugo  to  attempt  to 
bring  about  peace  and  reconciliation  with  the  wife 
from  whom  he  had  voluntarily  separated.  What 
connection  had  this  friendly  and  generous  mission 
with  a  sort  of  exhortation  to  the  prisoner  to  remove 
himself  from  error  ?  It  would  seem  as  if  the 
illustrious  poet  had  been  consulted  on  a  question  of 
philosophical  or  religious  orthodoxy.  The  apoca- 
lyptic letter  had,  however,  the  good  result  of 
inspiring  the  superintendent  with  a  certain  con- 
sideration for  the  prisoner,  who  at  first,  on  the 
evidence  of  the  police  notes,  he  had  taken  for  some 
ordinary  evil-doer. 

Verlaine's  mother,  on  her  side,  had  written  to 
the  magistrates.  The  superintendent  informed  his 
prisoner  : 

"Your  mother  has  solicited  Monsieur  le  Pro- 
cureur  du  Roi  on  your  behalf  to  authorise  your 
admission  to  the  Pistole.  And  he  added,  with  a 
certain  kindness,  which  comforted  the  poor  prisoner  : 
"In  consideration  of  this  letter  I  take  it  upon 
myself  to  give  you  the  authorisation  while  awaiting 
my  instructions  which  I  think  will  confirm  it." 

By  virtue  of  the  system  known  as  La  Pistole, 
Verlaine,  a  paying  prisoner,  was  lodged  alone  in  a 
cell  with  permission  to  have  his  food  from  outside, 
and  also  to  walk  by  himself  in  the  yard,  thus 
being  spared  the  society  of  the  other  prisoners. 
An  enquiry  was  set  on  foot  in  Paris,  and  the  infor- 
mation obtained  from  concierges,  neighbours,  and 
tradespeople  in  the  quarter  where  Verlaine's  wife 


290  PAUL   VERLAINE 

lived  with  her  parents,  always  very  hostile  to  their 
son-in-law,  proved  most  injurious.  Drunkenness, 
and  domestic  quarrels  reported  by  vague  witnesses, 
and  garnished  by  the  exaggerations  of  servant- 
maids,  were  added  to  the  ill  name  of  Communist 
which  the  poet  had  earned  by  pursuing  his  employ- 
ment at  the  H6tel-de-Ville  after  the  i8th  March. 
Verlaine's  father  -  in  -  law,  very  badly  disposed 
towards  him,  repeated  in  his  deposition  at  the 
Commissioner's  several  of  the  clauses  in  the  applica- 
tion for  a  separation  set  on  foot  by  his  daughter. 
Among  them  the  imputation  concerning  Rimbaud. 
These  unfavourable  reports  served  Belgian  justice 
as  a  pretext  for  keeping  back  the  affair,  and 
transforming  a  simple  police  case  into  a  criminal 
action. 

In  accordance  with  our  code  in  force  in  Belgium, 
as  it  was  only  a  case  of  minor  violence  involving 
no  incapacity  for  work,  the  misdemeanour  proved, 
together  with  the  carriage  of  prohibited  arms,  was 
liable  only  to  punishment  as  an  ordinary  offence — 
a  fine  and  five  days'  imprisonment  at  most.  This 
statement  of  the  facts  which  caused  Verlaine's  case 
to  be  brought  before  the  High  Court  of  Justice  in 
Brussels  is  corroborated  by  all  the  papers  relating 
to  it.  I  will  quote  the  two  following  extracts  from 
"The  instruction  attendant  on  the  accusation  of 
Paul  Verlaine:  Case  No.  148  of  1873,  placed 
on  the  registers  of  the  Court  of  Appeal  sitting 
at  Brussels,"  documents  absolutely  unpublished, 
which  it  has  been  difficult  for  me  to  procure,  and 
the  authenticity  of  which  is  established  by  the  signed 
register  itself  as  follows  :  "  No.  318.  Copy  of  the 
19th  August  1897,  signed  illegibly." 


THE  TRIAL  291 

Deposition   of    the   witness,    Arthur    Rimbaud, 
dated  I2th  July  1873. 

"  About  two  years  ago  I  made  the  acquaintance 
of  Verlaine  in  Paris.  Last  year,  in  consequence  of 
disagreements  with  his  wife  and  family,  he  proposed 
that  I  should  go  with  him  abroad.  We  were  to 
gain  our  livelihood  by  some  means  or  another,  for 
I  have  no  personal  fortune,  and  Verlaine  has  only 
the  produce  of  his  work  and  some  money  given  him 
by  his  mother.  We  came  together  to  Brussels  in 
the  month  of  July  last  year  and  stayed  about  two 
months  ;  seeing  there  was  nothing  to  be  done  in 
this  town  we  went  to  London.  We  lived  there 
together  until  quite  recently,  occupying  the  same 
lodging,  and  having  everything  in  common.  In  con- 
sequence of  a  discussion  we  had  at  the  beginning  of 
last  week,  a  discussion  arising  from  my  reproaches 
with  regard  to  his  indolence  and  his  manner  of 
acting  towards  some  acquaintances  of  ours,  Verlaine 
left  me  almost  unawares,  without  even  informing  me 
of  his  destination.  I  supposed,  however,  that  he 
would  go  to  Brussels  or  pass  through  it,  for  he 
had  taken  the  Antwerp  boat.  I  afterwards  received 
a  letter  from  him  headed  'at  sea,'  which  I  will  place 
before  you,  in  which  he  announced  that  he  had 
recalled  his  wife,  and  that  if  she  did  not  respond 
to  his  appeal  within  three  days  he  would  kill  him- 
self. He  also  told  me  to  write  to  him,  Poste 
Restante,  Brussels. 

"  I  afterwards  wrote  him  two  letters,  in  which 
I  asked  him  to  return  to  London,  or  to  consent  to 
my  rejoining  him  at  Brussels.  He  then  sent  me  a 
telegram  to  come  here,  to  Brussels.  I  desired  that 
we  should  be  reunited,  because  we  had  no  motive 
for  separating ;  I  therefore  left  London.  I  arrived 
at  Brussels  on  Tuesday  morning  and  rejoined 
Verlaine ;  his  mother  was  with  him.  He  had  no 


292  PAUL  VERLAINE 

settled  plan.  He  did  not  wish  to  remain  in 
Brussels,  because  he  feared  there  was  nothing  to 
be  done  in  this  city.  I,  on  my  part,  did  not  wish 
to  consent  to  return  to  London  as  he  proposed, 
because  our  departure  must  have  produced  too 
disagreeable  an  effect  on  the  minds  of  our  friends, 
and  I  resolved  to  return  to  Paris.  Sometimes 
Verlaine  manifested  an  intention  of  accompanying 
me,  in  order,  he  said,  to  get  justice  done  on  his 
wife  and  her  parents.  Sometimes  he  refused  to 
accompany  me,  because  Paris  recalled  such  sad 
memories.  He  was  in  a  state  of  very  great  exalta- 
tion ;  nevertheless  he  persisted  in  his  desire  that 
I  should  remain  with  him.  Sometimes  he  was  in 
despair  ;  sometimes  he  fell  into  a  rage.  There  was 
no  sequence  in  his  ideas.  On  Wednesday  evening 
he  drank  to  excess  and  became  intoxicated.  On 
Thursday  morning  he  went  out  at  six  o'clock,  and 
did  not  return  till  noon,  when  he  was  again  in 
a  state  of  drunkenness.  He  showed  me  a  pistol 
he  had  bought,  and  when  I  asked  what  it  was  for, 
he  replied  jokingly :  'It  is  for  you,  for  me,  for 
every  one!'  He  was  greatly  excited. 

"While  we  were  together  in  our  room  he 
descended  several  times  for  drink.  He  persisted  in 
endeavouring  to  prevent  the  execution  of  my  project 
of  returning  to  Paris.  I  remained  resolute  ;  I  even 
asked  his  mother  for  money  to  make  the  journey. 
Then,  at  a  given  moment,  he  locked  the  door  of  the 
room  leading  on  to  the  landing,  and  sat  down  on 
a  chair  in  front  of  it.  I  stood  upright  with  my 
back  against  the  wall,  facing  him.  He  said  to  me 
then:  'This  is  for  you,  as  you  are  going  away,' 
or  something  to  the  same  effect.  He  pointed  his 
pistol  at  me  and  fired,  hitting  me  on  the  left  wrist. 
The  first  shot  was  almost  instantaneously  followed 
by  a  second,  but  this  time  the  weapon  was  no  longer 
directed  towards  me,  but  lowered  to  the  floor. 


THE    TRIAL  293 

"  Verlaine  immediately  expressed  the  most  acute 
despair  at  what  he  had  done.  He  precipitated 
himself  into  the  adjoining  room,  occupied  by  his 
mother,  and  threw  himself  on  the  bed.  He  was 
like  a  madman.  He  put  the  pistol  into  my  hands 
and  entreated  me  to  discharge  it  at  his  head. 
His  attitude  was  that  of  profound  regret  at  what 
he  had  done.  About  five  o'clock  in  the  evening 
his  mother  and  he  brought  me  here  to  have 
my  wound  dressed.  On  returning  to  the  hotel, 
Verlaine  and  his  mother  proposed  that  I  should 
remain  with  them  to  be  taken  care  of,  or  return 
to  the  hospital  until  the  cure  was  complete. 
The  wound  not  appearing  to  me  to  be  serious, 
I  manifested  my  intention  of  returning  to  France 
the  same  evening,  to  my  mother  at  Charleville. 
This  news  plunged  Verlaine  anew  into  despair. 
His  mother  gave  me  twenty  francs  for  the  journey, 
and  they  went  out  with  me  to  accompany  me  to 
the  Gare  du  Midi. 

"Verlaine  was  like  a  madman.  He  did  every- 
thing he  could  to  detain  me,  at  the  same  time 
keeping  his  hand  constantly  in  the  pocket  of  his 
coat  where  his  pistol  was.  When  we  reached  the 
Place  Rouppe  he  went  in  front  of  us  for  a  few 
paces,  and  then  stopped  and  faced  me.  His 
attitude  made  me  fear  he  would  commit  some 
new  excess.  I  turned  round  and  ran  off,  and  it 
was  then  that  I  asked  a  policeman  to  arrest  him. 
The  ball  which  I  received  in  the  hand  has  not 
yet  been  extracted.  The  doctor  here  tells  me  it 
cannot  be  done  for  two  or  three  days. 

"  Q.  On  what  did  you  live  in  London  ? 

"R.  Principally  on  the  money  that  Mme. 
Verlaine  sent  to  her  son.  We  also  gave  French 
lessons  together ;  but  these  lessons  did  not  bring 
us  in  much — about  a  dozen  francs  a  week  towards 
the  end. 


294  PAUL   VERLAINE 

"Q.  Do  you  know  the  cause  of  the  disagree- 
ments between  Verlaine  and  his  wife  ? 

"  R.  Verlaine  did  not  wish  his  wife  to  continue 
to  live  with  her  father. 

"  Q.  Did  she  not  also  bring  forward  as  a  griev- 
ance, your  intimacy  with  Verlaine  ? 

"  R.  Yes,  she  even  accused  us  of  relations,  but 
I  do  not  wish  to  give  myself  the  trouble  to  con- 
tradict such  calumnies. 

"  Read,  confirmed,  and  signed. 

"Signed-.    A.  RIMBAUD;   TH.  SERSTEVENS  ; 
C.  LIGOUR." 

The  Court  of  Justice,  in  spite  of  the  slight 
nature  of  the  offence,  condemned  the  accused  to 
two  years'  imprisonment  and  a  fine  of  200  francs. 
In  his  summing  up,  the  magistrate  described 
Verlaine  as  a  Frenchman,  a  Communist,  and  a 
poet.  These  three  qualities  had  something  to  do 
with  the  severity  of  the  sentence. 

On  the  advice  of  his  counsel  the  condemned 
moved  an  appeal ;  but  the  magistrate,  finding  the 
sentence  too  light,  moved  on  his  side  an  appeal 
a  minima. 

A  new  hearing  took  place,  and  the  witness, 
Arthur  Rimbaud,  made  a  second  deposition  as 
follows : 

"  I  persist  in  the  declarations  I  made  to  you 
before,  i.e.,  that  before  firing  at  me  with  the 
revolver,  Verlaine  used  all  sorts  of  entreaties  to 
induce  me  to  remain  with  him.  It  is  true  that 
at  a  certain  moment  he  manifested  the  intention 
of  returning  to  Paris  in  order  to  endeavour  to 
obtain  a  reconciliation  with  his  wife,  and  that 
he  wished  to  prevent  me  from  accompanying  him 
there.  But  he  changed  his  mind  every  moment. 


CONDEMNED  295 

He  never  persisted  in  any  plan ;  also  I  can  find 
no  serious  cause  for  the  attack  he  made  upon  me ; 
but  his  reason  had  completely  gone.  He  was  in 
a  state  of  intoxication ;  he  had  been  drinking  in 
the  morning,  as  he  was  wont  to  do  when  left  to 
himself. 

"  Yesterday  the  revolver  shot,  by  which  I  was 
wounded,  was  extracted,  the  doctor  tells  me  that 
in  three  or  four  days  the  wound  will  be  healed. 
I  intend  to  return  to  France  to  my  mother,  who 
lives  at  Charleville. 

"  Read,  confirmed,  and  signed. 

"Signed'.    A.   RIMBAUD;   TH.    SERSTEVENS  ; 
C.  LIGOUR." 

The  Court  rigorously  maintained  the  first 
sentence,  and  at  least  the  magistrate's  movement 
of  appeal  a  minima  had  no  effect.  It  is  not  for 
us,  at  a  distance  of  thirty-three  years,  to  discuss  the 
thing  judged.  Verlaine  worked  out  his  sentence. 
His  supposed  victim,  who  had  only  a  slight  wound 
on  the  wrist,  is  since  dead.  The  condemned  has 
acquired  the  amnesty  of  fame.  One  remark  only 
may  be  made,  viz.,  that  the  wording  of  the 
accusation  expressly  contains  proof  that  Verlaine 
was  condemned  for  having  at  Brussels  on  the 
i8th  July  1873  "  voluntarily  inflicted  injuries  and 
made  wounds  entailing  personal  incapacity  for 
work  on  Arthur  Rimbaud  " — nothing  more.  It  is 
quite  evident  that  with  the  hostility  the  accused 
encountered  in  the  authorities,  and  the  small 
indulgence  shown  him  by  the  Belgian  magistrates, 
if  there  had  come  up  in  the  examination  the  least 
proof  in  connection  with  the  legend  regarding  his 
relations  with  Rimbaud,  the  Belgian  courts  would 
not  have  failed  to  bring  up  this  overwhelming 


296  PAUL   VERLAINE 

charge,  and  apply  to  the  infamy  of  the  accused 
all  the  rigour  of  the  circumspect,  adding  their 
quota  to  the  severity  of  the  condemnation.  It 
can  be  seen  by  these  authentic  papers,  by  all  the 
facts  of  the  case,  that  there  is  no  truth  whatso- 
ever in  the  calumny  which  has  been  circulated 
in  the  literary  world,  reproduced  in  numerous 
articles  devoted  to  the  poet  Verlaine,  and  is  still 
the  basis  of  much  unkind  criticism  in  conversa- 
tions in  which  the  name  and  personality  of  the 
author  of  the  Romances  sans  Paroles  occurs. 

The  trial  at  Brussels  clearly  established  that 
Paul  Verlaine  was  condemned  with  exceptional 
severity  it  is  true,  but  solely  for  violence,  shots, 
and  wounds  consequent  upon  a  quarrel  in  which 
morality  had  nothing  to  reprehend.  The  quality 
of  foreigner,  the  eccentric  ways,  intemperance,  and 
irregularity  of  life  of  the  poor  Bohemian  poet, 
and  the  unfavourable  reports  received  from  France 
in  response  to  enquiries  pursued  in  the  manner 
described  above,  explains  the  merciless  sentence 
and  its  subsequent  confirmation. 

Although  mention  was  made  in  the  course  of 
the  action  for  separation  of  this  imputation,  sup- 
ported principally  by  literary  gossip,  the  tittle- 
tattle  of  servants  and  tradespeople  of  the  Quartier 
Clignancourt,  and  although  it  was  even  alluded 
to  in  the  police  reports,  the  silence  of  the  Belgian 
magistrates  is  sufficient  to  prove  that  it  was  entirely 
without  foundation.  Of  this  accusation,  therefore, 
the  poet's  memory  must  be  relieved. 

The  allegation,  without  proofs,  of  a  woman 
desirous  of  obtaining  a  sentence  of  separation, 
and  gossip  at  bottom  more  idle  than  malevolent, 


CONDEMNED  297 

for  in  the  world  of  poets,  artists,  and  journalists 
scandal  is  propagated  without  more  importance 
being  attached  to  it  than  to  professional  backbiting 
and  current  humbug,  ought  not  to  be  regarded 
as  correct  and  proved  fact.  It  is  pnly  right  in 
obedience  to  the  wishes  of  the  dead  man,  who 
expressly  desired  me  to  do  so,  to  destroy  this 
scandalous  legend  once  and  for  all ;  and  I  execute 
his  constant  and  supreme  desire  by  bringing  a 
searchlight  to  bear  upon  all  the  obscurities  of 
the  glorious  and  unfortunate  life  of  the  author  of 
Sagesse. 


CHAPTER  XII 

IN  PRISON— MRS  PRISONS— ROMANCES  SANS   PAROLES 
(1873-1875) 

VERLAINE  was  condemned  to  two  years'  imprison- 
ment by  the  Brussels  magistrate  on  the  8th 
August  1873,  anc*  this  severe  sentence  was,  as 
we  have  seen,  confirmed  on  the  27th  August 
1873  by  a  decree  of  the  Court  of  Brabant.  The 
steps  made  to  procure  a  reduction  of  the  sentence 
led  to  nothing.  I  went  to  Mons  and  Brussels 
in  1874  to  try  and  interest  the  Belgian  notabilities 
in  the  fate  of  the  unhappy  poet — but  in  vain.  In 
company  with  Lissagaray,  who  had  been  pro- 
scribed, and  sought  refuge  in  Brussels,  I  paid 
various  fruitless  visits.  Everywhere  we  were 
met  by  a  courteous  but  firm  refusal ;  and  it  was 
impossible  for  us,  unfavourably  as  we  were 
regarded  at  the  time  by  the  French  Government, 
to  ask  for  the  intervention  of  the  Ambassador. 

I  returned  to  Paris  without  having  received 
a  glimmer  of  encouragement,  or  even  permission 
to  visit  Verlaine  in  his  prison.  I  had,  therefore, 
kept  from  him  my  journey  to  Belgium  and  its 
ill  success,  for  fear  of  depressing  and  driving  him 
to  despair.  His  mother,  who  made  long  stays 
in  Brussels  in  order  to  see  her  son,  also  vainly 

298 


IN   PRISON  299 

solicited  several  personages  of  the  Belgian  Court. 
No  one  cared  to  speak  or  write  in  favour  of  the 
poet,  condemned  and  calumniated,  and,  moreover, 
suspected  of  being  a  Communist.  Victor  Hugo 
himself,  in  spite  of  his  broad-mindedness  and 
habitual  tolerance,  did  nothing.  Verlaine  had  to 
finish  out  his  time,  for,  although  he  was  freed  in 
January  1875,  i*e->  a^ter  eighteen  months'  imprison- 
ment, it  was  not  by  favour  but  in  accordance  with 
the  law ;  he  merely  benefited  by  the  reduction 
accorded  to  all  those  who  were  sentenced  to  soli- 
tary confinement. 

He  has  himself  described  his  harsh  captivity 
without  emphasis  or  acrimony,  but  rather  with 
shrewd  good  -  humour  and  ironical  resignation. 
Although  it  differed  both  as  regards  origin  and 
gravity  from  his  other  enforced  sojourns  in  a 
police  cell,  in  the  course  of  a  vagabond  existence, 
he  has  confounded  his  imprisonment  in  the  Petits- 
Carmes,  Brussels,  and  at  Mons,  with  the  narra- 
tion of  his  incarcerations  as  an  insubordinate 
student  or  disorderly  drinker. 

All  these  interruptions  of  his  life  as  a  free 
man  served  him  as  a  pretext  for  autobiographical 
details  and  humorous  observations.  He  collected, 
under  the  title  Mes  Prisons,  several  articles 
which  appeared  in  literary  journals  a  long  time 
after  the  events.  These  articles  must  be  included 
among  the  biographical  and  anecdotal  writings  of 
Paul  Verlaine :  Confessions,  Memoires  dun  Veuf, 
Mes  Hopitaux,  and  Les  Poetes  M audits.  The 
volume  Mes  Prisons  only  contains  eighty-one  pages. 
It  was  published  by  be" on  Vanier,  format  small 
in- 18,  and  bears  the  date  1893. 


300  PAUL   VERLAINE 

Mes  Prisons  begins  with  an  account  of  the  first 
captivity  of  Paul  Verlaine  :  confinement  in  a  room 
at  the  Institution  Landry  for  an  error  in  a  Latin 
lesson,  accompanied  by  insubordination.  He  did 
not  retain  an  unpleasant  recollection  of  this  first 
cell,  having  indeed  a  special  toleration  for  gaols. 

"  A  very  suitable  cell,  light,  without  rats,  mice, 
bolts,  anything  on  which  to  sit  down,  and  the  least 
facility  for  writing,  and  from  which  I  came  out  at 
the  end  of  two  short  hours,  probably  as  learned 
as  before,  but  certainly  very  hungry."  (Mes 
Prisons,  p.  5.) 

His  second  prison,  although  more  serious  in 
point  of  time  and  place,  was  equally  lacking  in 
terror.  During  the  siege,  when  he  was  acting 
both  as  National  Guard  and  Government  employee, 
Verlaine  neglected  the  rampart  for  the  office,  pre- 
ferring, when  the  first  fire  of  patriotic  enthusiasm 
had  died  down,  and  he  had  thoroughly  savoured 
the  joy  of  wearing  a  helmet  and  managing  a 
sword,  the  office  stool  to  the  camp  bed.  It  must 
be  said  in  vindication  of  the  culprit  that  he  was 
newly  married  and  much  in  love  with  his  wife, 
to  whom  at  the  end  of  his  official  day  he  was  free 
to  return ;  the  reverse  being  the  case  when  he  was 
on  guard.  He  was  punished  by  his  superiors  with 
two  days  at  the  police  station.  There  he  found 
a  numerous  and  amusing  company. 

"  The  acquaintance  of  my  companions,  working- 
men  confined  there  for  breaches  of  discipline 
similar  to  my  own,  was  quickly  made,  thanks  to 
my  particularly  sociable  temperament."  (Mes 
Prisons,  p.  9.) 


MES  PRISONS  301 

With  drinks  smuggled  in  from  outside,  the 
smoking  of  pipes,  political  discussions,  and  a 
certain  partridge  pie,  sent  by  his  wife  and  enjoyed 
in  secret — "in  these  conditions,  acceptable  as  a 
whole" — the  forty-eight  hours  passed  rapidly,  and 
the  chastised  National  Guard  returned  home  in  high 
good  humour,  to  be  met  there,  in  response  to  his 
thanks  for  the  succulent  partridge  pie,  with  the 
remark  :  "  Indeed,  I  have  always  understood  that 
the  rat  was  a  great  delicacy." 

The  third  prison  was  at  Arras  in  1872,  simply 
a  matter  of  being  detained  at  the  police  station 
in  company  with  Rimbaud — an  incident  already 
narrated.  The  fourth,  the  serious,  the  real,  was 
that  of  Brussels  and  Mons,  for  the  Rimbaud  affair. 
The  fifth  incarceration  is  rather  more  obscure,  and 
Verlaine  has  not  been  very  explicit  on  the  subject. 
It  was  at  Vouziers — 

"a  town  charming  in  the  extreme,"  said  Verlaine, 
"  where  I  was  imprisoned  on  the  charge  of  threaten- 
ing my  mother,  a  crime,  according  to  the  penal 
code,  punishable  by  death.  .  .  .  O  maman  \  .  .  .  O 
maman  \  .  .  .  O  maman,  indeed,  forgive  me  this 
one  speech  :  '  If  you  do  not  come  back  home  I  will 
kill  myself!1  .  .  ."  (Mes  Prisons,  p.  69.) 

The  curious  and  interesting  volume  Mes  Prisons 
is  no  tearful  narrative  emulating  that  of  Silvio 
Pellico ;  Verlaine  was  not  of  a  whining  tempera- 
ment. As  we  shall  see  in  Mes  Hopitaux,  at  his 
worst  times  he  only  complained  gently  and  humor- 
ously. He  never  cursed  destiny,  nor  shook  his 
fist  at  hostile  gods,  nor  apostrophised  society  and 
these  members  of  it  with  whom  he  had  come  into 
unpleasant  contact.  He  never  showed  himself  a 


302  PAUL  VERLAINE 

grumbler,  agitator,  nor  anarchist.  With  one  or  two 
exceptions,  of  which  Les  Invectives  bears  the  trace, 
although  the  outbursts  of  indignation  therein  con- 
tained are  mere  fits  of  irritation,  he  never  attacked 
nor  defamed  any  of  those  who  worked  him  ill, 
either  directly  or  indirectly.  In  the  fragmentary 
memoirs  in  which  he  speaks  of  his  places  of 
captivity,  and  those  who  guarded  him,  he  displays 
no  hatred  nor  sense  of  injury.  In  recounting  his 
tribulations  he  never  grows  angry  nor  protests. 
With  a  very  rare  sincerity  he  recognises  that  the 
greater  number  of  his  misfortunes  were  due  to 
himself,  his  errors,  his  faults,  and  his  weakness. 

He  even  takes  a  pleasure  in  self-accusation  ; 
with  proud  humility  he  confesses  all  his  sins.  He 
pushed  this  absence  of  rancour  and  lack  of 
animosity  against  men,  institutions,  and  things  so 
far,  that  he  did  not  even  criticise  the  penitentiary 
system,  despite  his  experience  of  its  excessive, 
useless,  and  inhuman  rigours.  Nay,  he  goes  so 
far  as  to  regret  the  cell  he  looked  upon  as  a 
refining  crucible,  wherein  the  impurities  and  dross 
of  the  soul  are  drawn  off,  and  he  admires  and 
celebrates,  as  an  artist,  the  lugubrious  building, 
describing  it  as  "a  mansion  which  gleams  quite 
red  arid  sleeps  quite  white,"  in  which  he  was  shut 
up  for  sixteen  months.  He  not  only  refrained  from 
displaying  any  of  the  hostility  usually  felt  towards 
anything  that  is  associated  with  suffering  and  oppres- 
sion, but  he  even  experienced  a  sort  of  nostalgia 
for  his  prison  long  after  he  had  left  it,  and  exhibited 
a  strange  gratitude  towards  his  gaol  and  his  gaolers. 
Prison  chaplains  ought  to  read  from  Verlaine  to 
their  prisoners  on  Sundays,  by  way  of  a  lay  sermon. 


MES  PRISONS  803 

In  prose  and  in  verse  Verlaine  preserved  an 
excellent  recollection  of  this  prison  at  Mons,  and 
in  Mes  Prisons  he  expresses  himself  thus  flatteringly 
in  regard  to  it  (it  was  all  he  knew  of  the  town, 
for  he  did  not  visit  Mons  until  very  much  later, 
when  he  was  travelling  to  Holland  in  1892) : 

"  The  prison  of  the  capital  of  Hainaut  is  as 
pretty  a  thing  as  possible.  The  outside  of  pale 
red  brick,  almost  rose-coloured,  this  monument, 
this  veritable  monument,  is  white  with  limestone 
and  black  with  tar  inside,  and  with  sober  archi- 
tecture of  steel  and  iron.  I  have  expressed  the 
kind  of  admiration  raised  in  me  by  the  sight,  the 
very  first  sight  of  this,  henceforward  my  chdteau, 
in  the  verses  that  may  be  found  amusing  in  the 
book  Sagesse,  the  greater  number  of  poems  in 
which  are  dated  from  thence  :  —  *  J'ai  longtemps 
habite"  le  meilleur  des  chateaux.  .  .  .'"  (Mes 
Prisons,  p.  45.) 

In  a  poem  from  Amour,  and  not  from  Sagesse, 
as  Verlaine  wrongly  states,  headed  "  Written  in 
1875" — and  which  is  dedicated  to  me — composed 
at  Stickney  in  England,  where  he  was  a  professor, 
Verlaine  celebrates  first  the  architecture,  then  the 
interior,  and  lastly  the  furniture  of  the  penitentiary. 
He  found  the  decoration  admirable,  and  the 
furniture  perfect.  He  had  a  table,  a  chair,  and  a 
narrow  bed,  sufficient  light,  and  enough  space, 
and  he  records,  moved  by  these  recollections,  his 
regrets  for  the  two  years  passed  in  la  tour. 
There  he  found  real  and  lasting  peace  ;  the  silence 
and  the  solitude  suited  his  sad  heart.  Like  one 
wounded,  he  had  need  of  shelter  and  tranquillity. 
He  reproduced  Pascal's  famous  saying:  "Our 


304  PAUL   VERLAINE 

calamities  all  arise  from  this,  that  we  do  not  know 
how  to  live  in  one  room."  To  this  sentence  of 
the  great  thinker's  he  added  a  superb  line,  worthy 
of  the  author  of  the  Provinciales :  "  Unhappiness 
is  certainly  a  treasure  we  dig  up.  .  .  ." 

He  clearly  and  admirably  described  his  happi- 
ness at  that  time :  the  possession  of  good  things 
that  no  one  envies,  the  sentiment  that  has  no 
trace  of  jealousy,  the  disdain  of  vain  glory,  for 
the  desire  of  men's  good  opinion  underlies  all 
earthly  things,  and  even,  according  to  Pascal,  forces 
those  who  write  against  fame  to  have  the  fame  of 
being  good  writers,  and  he  expressed  the  serenity 
of  this  recluse  existence,  divided  between  the  two 
benefits,  prayer  and  study,  with  for  recreation  a  little 
manual  labour.  Thus  did  the  saints  live,  said  he. 

And  so  his  conversion  came  about.  He  con- 
sidered with  disgust  and  repentance  the  sinner  he 
had  been.  He  showed  satisfaction  in  being  in- 
cluded "  among  the  hidden,  reserved  hearts  that 
God  makes  His  own  in  the  silence,"  and  he  felt 
himself  growing  good  and  wise.  He  had  the 
dignity  of  security,  a  serious  rendering  of  the 
humorous  reflection  of  Alfred  de  Musset's,  when 
he  was  conducted  to  Les  Haricots  for  neglecting 
the  summons  of  the  National  Guard :  "  They  do 
not  arrest  any  one  here ! " 

In  this  laudatory  poem  is  to  be  found,  with  a 
rare  power  of  colouring,  the  silent  impression  of 
the  place : 

"  Deux  fois  le  jour,  ou  trois,  u»  serviteur  severe, 
Apportant  mes  repas  et  repartant  muet. 
Nul  bruit.     Rien  dans  le  tour  jamais  ne  remuait, 
Qu'une  horloge  au  cceur  clair,  qui  battait  a  coups  larges.  .  .  ." 


MES  PRISONS  305 

It  concludes  by  a  blessing  on  the  prison,  "that 
castle  of  enchantment,  wherein  his  soul  was  born," 
and  from  which  he  issued  forth  ready  for  life, 
armed  with  gentleness  and  faith. 

Long  afterwards,  when  travelling  through 
Belgium  and  Holland  on  a  lecture  tour,  he 
passed  by  his  old  enforced  retreat,  and  looked 
without  much  emotion  at  "the  austere  asylum  in 
which  he  had  suffered  greatly  nine  years  before." 
He  describes  thus  in  prose  the  castle  "qui  luit 
tout  rouge  et  dort  tout  blanc "  : 

"I  want  to  speak  of  the  prison  which  I  had  never 
properly  beheld  from  the  outside.  It  is  situated  at 
the  extremity  of  the  town,  and  is  in  the  form  of  a 
wheel  enclosed  in  four  walls  constituting  a  rectangle, 
the  whole  terminated  by  the  polygonal  dome  of  the  * 
chapel.  The  entrance  door,  framed  in  grey  stone, 
has  an  artistic  appearance,  and  plays  the  Gothic 
fairly  well.  Distance  and  the  rust  of  years  showed 
them  to  me  then,  as  the  verse  of  which  I  have  just 
quoted  a  fragment  evokes  them  for  me  now,  blood 
red  :  these  bricks  which  had  seemed  to  me  of  yore, 
viewed  close  at  hand  and  soon  after  the  building 
had  been  erected,  almost  pale  rose."  (Mes  Prisons, 
P-  77-) 

With  great  resignation  and  an  unexpected  firm- 
ness of  mind,  for  he  had  nothing  of  the  stoic  in 
him,  Verlaine  supported  the  excessive  penalty  so 
roughly  imposed  upon  him.  He  armed  himself  with 
patience,  stored  up  his  energy,  and  courageously 
set  to  work  to  count  out  the  days  without  overmuch 
bitterness.  But  he  had  hours  of  torture  in  his 
isolation  :  the  memory  of  his  wife  was  always  with 
him,  tormenting  him,  haunting  his  dreams  at  night 

u 


306  PAUL   VERLAINE 

and  his  thoughts  by  day.  He  was  .as  if  bewitched 
by  the  love  philtre  of  ancient  legend,  a  sort  of 
auto-suggestion,  he  saw  incessantly  in  thought  the 
one  who  greatly  desired  to  withdraw  herself  entirely 
from  him.  There  was  doubtless  in  this  curious 
sentiment,  love  increasing  with  resistance,  longing 
intensified  by  absence,  the  usual  phenomena  of 
passion  ;  but  in  the  case  of  Verlaine,  there  was  also 
a  desire  for  a  regular  orderly  life,  conjugal  union, 
forgetfulness,  and  pardon.  The  conversion  on 
which  he  felicitated  himself,  the  absolution  he  had 
solicited  and  obtained,  seemed  to  him  incomplete 
without  the  return  of  the  wife  who  could  not  be 
induced  to  pardon  him.  The  thought  of  his  son, 
whom  he  was  never  to  embrace,  added  to  his  desire 
to  resume  married  life  and  blot  out  the  past.  The 
following  letters,  written  from  the  prison  of  Mons, 
clearly  establish  Verlaine's  new  state  of  mind.  In 
almost  all  of  them  by  the  side  of  the  absent  one 
there  is  question  of  the  Romances  sans  Paroles — his 
mental  consolation. 

The  following  is  the  history  of  this  delicate  and 
subtle  collection  of  verse,  perhaps  Verlaine's  most 
intense  work,  in  which  are  to  be  found  blended 
together  his  two  styles :  the  objective  with  its 
representation  of  forms,  imaginary  conceptions, 
and  exterior  recollections  (Pay sages  Beiges,  Ariettes 
Oublie'es,  Aquarelles),  and  the  subjective,  with  its 
expression  of  personal  sensations  and  description 
of  real  sorrows  (Birds  in  the  Night}. 

As  has  been  seen  in  the  preceding  chapters  the 
poems,  of  which  the  volume  Romances  sans  Paroles 
is  composed,  were  all  written  between  1872  and 
1873,  during  Verlaine's  stays  in  Belgium,  the 


ROMANCES  SANS  PAROLES  307 

Ardennes,  and  London.  He  had  not  succeeded  in 
finding  a  publisher  for  it ;  neither  had  I .  Volumes 
of  verse  do  not  attract  publishers.  Those  necessary 
intermediaries  between  the  author  and  the  public 
become  fractious  at  the  sight  of  MSS.  with  unequal 
lines.  Even  when  offering  to  meet  the  expense  of 
production  the  unfortunate  author  has  a  difficulty 
in  finding  any  one  to  print  his  rhymes  ;  and  in  this 
case  the  difficulty  was  enhanced  by  the  sort  of 
ostracism  Verlaine  was  enduring.  He  had  sent 
me  his  manuscript  before  his  return  to  England 
in  1873.  I  could  not  get  any  bookseller  to  put 
his  name  on  the  cover.  Then  came  the  accident 
at  Brussels,  and  I  decided  to  publish  the  poems 
myself,  for  better,  for  worse,  knowing  how  much 
it  would  please  him. 

I  had  left  Paris  owing  to  circumstances  to  which 
I  have  already  alluded.  M.  Thiers  had  been  over- 
thrown, and  the  Marechal  de  MacMahon  had  taken 
his  place.  Paris  was  in  a  state  of  siege.  The 
Republican  journal  for  which  I  wrote  the  Peuple 
Souverain,  an  organ  in  small  format  at  five  centimes, 
the  precursor  of  the  Petit  Parisien  and  the  Lanterne, 
for  at  that  time  there  was  only  the  Petit  Journal, 
similar  in  format  and  price,  among  the  political 
organs,  had  been  abruptly  suppressed  by  the  order 
of  General  Ladmirault,  the  military  governor  of 
Paris,  under  the  pretext  of  an  article  which  would 
nowadays  be  considered  perfectly  inoffensive,  on 
the  liberty  of  the  press,  entitled  Un  Edit  de 
Louis  XV.,  by  Edouard  Lockroy. 

The  disappearance  of  this  journal  meant  loss 
of  work  and  daily  bread  for  five  hundred  persons, 
and,  moreover,  deprived  the  democracy  of  a  redoubt- 


308  PAUL   VERLAINE 

able  champion.  The  manager,  my  friend,  Valentin 
Simond,  who  has  since  founded  other  newspapers, 
among  them  the  Echo  de  Paris,  resolved  to  continue 
the  publication  of  the  paper  by  transferring  it  to 
a  territory  outside  the  range  of  martial  law.  Sens, 
two  and  a  half  hours  from  Paris,  was  chosen  as 
the  most  convenient  place,  and  I  went  thither  to 
act  as  editor.  We  installed  our  printing  and 
publishing  office  in  this  unrepublican  city,  and 
utilising  the  plant  of  a  local  printer,  Maurice 
Lhermitte,  who  published  the  Courrier  de  tYonne, 
we  managed  to  issue  the  journal  which  was  after- 
wards to  succumb  to  law-suits  and  fines. 

I  found  in  our  printing  -  office  some  type 
sufficiently  elegant  for  a  volume  of  Verlaine's 
poems.  I  bought  some  Whatman  paper,  and  after 
having  superintended  the  composition  and  correction 
I  sent  the  poet  a  specimen,  showing  the  format, 
style  of  type,  etc.  It  pleased  him  as  he  told  me 
in  a  letter  quoted  later  on.  Not  very  many  copies 
were  printed,  five  hundred  I  believe,  and  they  were 
not  sold  in  the  ordinary  way.  I  sent  copies  to 
Verlaine's  mother,  the  names  given  me  by  Verlaine 
and  the  press ;  but  not  one  of  the  papers  even 
quoted  the  name  of  the  book.  I  have  preserved 
some  copies,  now  very  rare,  and  regarded  as 
bibliographical  curiosities ;  I  afterwards  distributed 
copies  among  some  friends  of  Verlaine's,  writers, 
who  like  M.  Henry  Bauer,  were  ignorant  of  the 
poet,  and  despised  the  man,  and  who,  being  impressed 
by  the  little  volume,  were  transformed  into  sincere 
admirers  and  ardent  defenders  of  the  poet's. 

A  correspondence  of  necessity  constrained,  by 
reason   of  the   prison   formalities,    was   exchanged 


ROMANCES  SANS  PAROLES  309 

between  the  prisoner  and  myself  in  regard  to  the 
details  of  publication  with,  in  his  case,  the  ever- 
lasting, mournful  refrain  of  regrets,  raptures,  male- 
dictions, and  despair  with  which  the  attitude  of 
his  wife  inspired  him.  These  letters,  some  of  which 
were  put  in  the  post  clandestinely,  and  even  without 
stamps,  "one  is  poor  in  prison,"  wrote  the  prisoner, 
are  on  dirty  torn  notepaper,  with  the  word  Bath — 
which  must  have  made  Verlaine  smile  more  than 
once — in  filigree  lettering  at  the  top — paper  of  the 
canteens.  Several  came  to  me  almost  illegible, 
being  written  to  economise  paper  and  postage,  in 
a  microscopic  hand  blotted  by  the  thick  blue  prison 
ink.  This  is  one  of  the  first  letters  I  received 
from  the  Carmes  about  six  weeks  after  the 
condemnation  : 

"BRUSSELS,  Sunday,  2%th  September  1873. 

"As  soon  as  this  letter  reaches  you,  please 
answer  it.  You  will  understand  why  I  make  a  point 
of  this.  For  the  last  three  weeks  I  have  had  no 
more  visits,  my  mother  having  gone,  and  I  have 
only  received  one  letter  from  her  in  that  time.  I 
wrote  to  her  last  Sunday,  and  am  still  awaiting  her 
reply.  In  the  state  of  sorrow  and  anxiety  in  which 
I  know  she  is  and  all  alone,  and  with  her  uneasy 
temperament,  the  least  delay  in  a  letter  makes  me 
uneasy  in  my  turn.  I  invent  a  thousand  evils,  thus 
augmenting  the  discomfort  of  my  deplorable  situa- 
tion. Certainly,  any  moment  a  letter  may  reach 
me,  but  that  does  not  prevent  you  from  hearkening 
to  my  prayer;  it  is  such  a  great  pleasure  a  letter 
to  a  poor  prisoner.  Make  it  as  long  as  possible, 
and  as  legible  as  possible,  not  on  my  account,  for 
I  am  used  to  your  scrawls,  but  for  the  prison 
authorities,  so  that  there  may  be  no  delay.  Tell 


310  PAUL   VERLAINE 

me  about  Paris,  our  comrades,  and  if  you  have  any 
news  from  the  Rue  Nicolet.  Do  the  Paris  news- 
papers by  chance  speak  of  this  unfortunate  affair  ? 
Is  Victor  Hugo  in  Paris?  Kindly  send  me  his 
address  (the  great  poet  did  make  a  vain  attempt 
to  obtain  a  remittance  of  the  sentence). 

"  My  mother  has  told  you  the  great  importance 
I  attach  to  the  prompt  publication  of  my  little  book. 
I  have  a  thousand  literary  projects,  particularly 
dramatic,  for  I  intend  when  I  come  out  to  set  to 
work  seriously  to  gain  money  by  my  pen.  I  will 
write  you  later  at  greater  length.  I  do  not  know 
when  I  shall  come  out ;  it  may  perhaps  be  any 
moment  —  so  write  to  me  very  quickly.  I  have 
asked  Laura  (my  sister,  Mme.  Alphonse  Humbert) 
to  go  as  often  as  possible  to  see  my  mother,  and  I 
thank  her  for  the  interest  she  takes  in  the  matter. 
My  depression,  particularly  during  the  last  fortnight, 
has  been  atrocious,  and  my  health  is  not  good.  I 
have  frightful  headaches  sometimes,  and  am  more 
nervous  than  ever.  Say  nothing  about  this  to  my 
mother,  I  entreat  you,  and  if  you  see  her  before 
I  write  to  her  again,  tell  her  you  have  heard  from 
me,  and  that  my  health  is  good.  Kind  regards  to 
Blemont  and  Valade." 

Here  is  a  second  letter  of  the  same  period  : 

"  Thank  you  very  much  for  your  kind  remem- 
brance of  me,  and  I  send  Laura  all  my  gratitude  for 
her  kind  letters  to  my  mother.  .  .  .  Hein !  what 
unhappiness  it  is  to  have  a  bad  wife,  backed  up  in 
her  foolishness.  She  might  have  been  so  happy, 
if,  thinking  of  her  son,  and  remembering  her  true 
duty,  she  had  rejoined  me  when  I  begged  her, 
especially  that  last  time  when  I  warned  her  of  all 
the  unhappiness  that  would  happen  if  she  insisted 
on  preferring  her  family  to  me.  How  can  I  speak 
of  that  family?  You  and  your  sister  have  both 


ROMANCES  SANS  PAROLES  311 

been  witnesses  of  my  grief,  my  forbearance,  and 
my  sacrifices.  You  have  seen  me  in  a  terrible 
state,  alone,  and  thinking  only  of  this  wretch,  and 
trembling  and  crying  at  the  idea  that  I  shall  never 
see  her  again — and  you  see  what  she  has  done !  I 
retain  no  bitterness  against  her.  God  is  my  witness 
that  I  would  forgive  her  everything  and  make  her 
happy,  if  she  would  only  open  her  eyes  to  the 
enormity  of  her  conduct  to  me  and  to  my  mother, 
who  was  so  good  to  her,  and  is  so  deserving.  I 
ought,  it  seems  to  me,  if  they  persist  in  their 
infamous  action,  to  resist  to  the  end  ;  but  to  do  so 
I  must  be  on  the  spot.  .  .  .  Shall  I  obtain  a  year's 
remission  ?  My  mother  will  speak  to  you  about 
it.  I  am  very  anxious  that  my  book  should  appear 
this  winter.  ...  I  shall  very  soon  be  installed  in 
the  prison  at  Mons,  and  able  to  give  ample  details  ; 
perhaps  they  will  permit  me  to  correct  my  proofs. 
.  .  .  I  am  working  hard  at  English,  of  course  for  I 
am  to  live  at  London  henceforth. 

"  A  hearty  handshake,  and  looking  forward  to 
seeing  you  again,  if  not  very  soon  at  least  I  hope 
in  good  health  and  good  luck.  Your  old  unfortunate 
comrade  and  friend.  P.  V. 

"  From  Brussels,  de  mare  tenebrarum" 

Another  letter  from  the  Carmes,  full  of  inter- 
polations and  erasures,  while  thanking  me  for 
taking  the  Romances  sans  Paroles  in  hand,  he  again 
urges  haste  in  regard  to  it,  and  speaks  of  plays 
he  intends  to  write  in  prison,  and  place  before 
some  of  the  French  comedians,  when  in  London. 
"They  will  be  modern,"  he  writes,  "elegant,  moral, 
and  everything!  literary,  too,  but  not  lyrical  nor 
pedantic,  etc.,  etc.  In  fact  eminently  practical." 

Transferred  to  Mons,  he  sent  me  a  letter  in 
quite  different  handwriting,  inclining  very  much 


312  PAUL   VERLAINE 

downwards — a   certain    sign   of    hopelessness   and 
depression. 

"MoNS,  22nd November  1873. 

"This  is  chiefly  an  earnest  entreaty;  write  to 
me  from  time  to  time.  Would  it  be  possible  for 
you  to  do  so  every  fifteen  or  twenty  days  .  .  . 
giving  me  news  of  friends,  events  in  Paris.  .  .  . 
It  is  four  months  and  a  half  since  I  read  a  news- 
paper. ...  As  to  what  is  happening  in  literature 
I  know  nothing.  I  have  some  English  books — 
I  have  just  read  Fabiola  without  a  dictionary.  My 
occupation  up  to  now  is  to  pick  coffee ;  that  takes 
a  little  time.  I  go  out  for  an  hour  every  day 
during  which  I  may  smoke ;  all  the  rest  of  the 
time  is  solitary  confinement  in  the  strict  acceptation 
of  the  word.  I  am  on  the  pistole  with  a  good 
bed  and  good  food.  Always  feeble  in  health,  and 
the  courage  which  sustained  me  at  Brussels  seems 
about  to  abandon  me,  although  I  have  more  need 
of  it  now  than  ever.  I  must  hope  that  I  shall 
not  have  much  longer  to  endure  ;  that  I  shall  obtain 
a  remission.  They  are  very  kind  to  me,  and  I  am 
as  well  as  possible.  But  my  poor  head  is  so  empty, 
so  resounding,  with  all  the  recent  troubles  and 
worries,  that  I  have  not  been  able  to  acquire  that 
species  of  somnolence  which  seems  to  me  to  be 
the  ultimum  solatium  of  a  prisoner. 

"Also,  need  I  ask  for  some  remembrance  of  me 
on  the  other  side  of  the  wall,  that  is  why  I  persist 
in  the  entreaty  I  made  above  with  all  my  might. 
I  therefore  count  on  a  prompt  reply.  ...  I  shall 
be  more  grateful  than  you  can  imagine  for  this 
mark  of  friendship. 

"  Address :  To  M.  the  Superintendent  of  the 
prison  at  Mons  (Hainaut)  Belgium,  and  at  the 
head  of  the  letter  put :  Kindly  hand  to  the  con- 
demned prisoner,  Paul  Verlaine, pistole,  Cell  252." 


ROMANCES  SANS  PAROLES  313 

I  sent  him  in  accordance  with  his  desire  a 
specimen  page  of  his  book,  and  awaited  his  remarks. 
Although  afterwards  he  criticised  the  format,  which 
certainly  gave  something  of  the  appearance  of  a 
political  or  medical  pamphlet  to  the  little  volume, 
but  was  unavoidable  on  account  of  the  limited  range 
of  a  newspaper  printing  office,  at  first  he  declared 
himself  satisfied,  being  occupied  at  the  moment 
with  another  matter.  He  was  undergoing  a  new 
and  violent  emotional  crisis,  and  his  thoughts  were 
distracted  from  poetry  and  publishing,  as  the 
following  letter  shows.  A  singularity  in  the  date 
is  noticeable;  he  did  not  know  whether  it  was 
the  24th  or  the  28th — the  days  passed  by  unnoted 
in  his  cell. 

"  MONS,  ztfh  or  28/A  September  1873. 

"  I  received  your  note  and  the  specimen  ...  it 
is  very  nice.  Do  not  trouble  to  send  me  anything 
else  just  now.  When  the  book  is  finished  will  you 
forward  a  certain  number  of  copies  to  my  mother, 
or  if  she  is  still  here  send  her  one  that  she  can  give 
me.  ...  As  I  told  you  last  Thursday  I  am  much 
discouraged,  and  at  times  very  sad.  Can  you 
believe  that  my  wife  is  still  one  of  my  troubles? 
It  is  extraordinary  that  she  should  be  afraid  of 
her  father  and  mother.  I  pity  her  with  all  my 
heart  for  what  has  happened,  knowing  her  to  be 
amid  uncongenial  surroundings,  far  from  the  only 
being  who  understands  something  of  her  character — 
I  mean  myself.  But  so  much  has  been  done  and 
insisted  upon,  that  now  she  is  practically  in  honour 
bound  to  persist  in  her  design.  In  reality  I  am 
sure  she  is  consumed  with  sorrow,  perhaps  remorse. 
She  knows  she  has  deceived  herself,  she  knows 
who  and  what  I  am,  and  of  what  I  am  capable  for 
her  happiness. 


314  PAUL   VERLAINE 

"  From  the  fact  that  she  saw  me  drunk,  and  they 
put  it  into  her  head  that  I  cruelly  outraged  her,  I 
must  conclude  that  her  desire  for  a  separation  was 
spontaneous  .  .  .  done  for  effect.  .  .  .  For  a  moment 
at  Brussels  last  year  I  saw  that  her  eyes  were  opened, 
but  it  passed  ;  her  mother  was  there.  The  unhappy 
girl  certainly  knows  that  here,  in  this  ignominy  into 
which  I  have  been  thrust,  I  am  thinking  these  things. 
She  knows  it,  she  wishes  to  return  and  cannot. 
Therefore  her  father's  house  is  indeed  a  hell  for  her  ; 
it  is  chiefly  this  which  afflicts  me. 

"You  laugh  perhaps  at  my  psychology!  You 
are  wrong,  all  this  is  true.  I  am  not  yet  sufficiently 
blessed  to  be  able  to  shut  my  eyes  to  everything.  I 
intend,  when  I  come  out,  to  re-enter  France  armed 
with  legal  rights.  A  legal  struggle  with  M.  Maut6 
has  nothing  in  it  terrifying  for  me.  ...  As  to  the 
dear  child,  I  shall  always  be  just  the  same  to  her ; 
gentle,  patient,  and  with  open  arms.  But  enough 
of  this  subject,  I  shall  speak  of  it  again." 

Evidently  he  still  had  some  illusions  with  regard 
to  the  reality  of  his  wife's  sentiments  towards  him, 
and  all  hope  of  recovering  lost  happiness  had  not 
vanished  at  this  period. 

However,  the  Romances  sans  Paroles  soon  claimed 
his  attention  again,  and  shortly  afterwards  he  wrote  : 

"If  there  is  still  time  in  the  poem  :  Oh !  la 
riviere  dans  la  rue !  line  4,  please  put :  '  Derriere 
un  mur  haut  de  cinq  pieds '  instead  of  '  entre  deux 
murs.'  I  remember  that  there  was  in  reality  only 
one  wall,  the  other  side  being  on  a  level  with  the 
ground. 

"  In  Birds  in  the  Night,  poem  12  :  '  Aussi  bien 
pourquoi  me  mettrai-je  a  geindre,'  line  2,  please 
put  'Vous  ne  m'aimiez  pas'  instead  of  '  Vous  ne 
m'aimez  pas.1 


ROMANCES  SANS  PAROLES  315 

"When  you  send  copies  to  London,  enclose 
with  Barr£re's  one  for  Lissagaray,  another  for 
Swinburne,  and  another  addressed  to  Barjau, 
French  newsagent,  Frith  Street,  Soho.  You  would 
do  well  to  send  the  latter  a  note,  and  if  he  writes 
an  article  in  the  Pall  Mall  Gazette,  or  any  other 
journal,  ask  him  to  be  good  enough  to  send  it 
to  you,  ...  if  by  chance  Barrere,  to  whom  I  send 
greeting,  as  well  as  to  the  others  mentioned  above, 
is- good  enough  to  give  me  the  pleasure  of  writing 
to  me,  his  letter  will  be  welcome,  Give  him  my 
sad  address.  Recommend  him  to  avoid  carefully 
any  Communist  allusion  or  any  compromising  name, 
both  in  the  article  and  in  the  letter.  His  address 
is  Camille  Barrere,  Arts  Club,  Hanover  Square, 
Oxford  Street. 

"  I  am  working  at  the  poems  of  which  I  spoke 
to  you.  I  hope  when  I  come  out  to  have  completed 
six  acts,  one  in  prose,  and  a  volume  of  verse,  of 
which  you  have  seen  specimens.  It  will  be  com- 
posed of  some  fantasies,  like  the  Almanack  .  .  . 
and  five  or  six  little  poems,  one  of  which  you  have, 
L?  Impenitence  Finale.  Three  of  them  are  finished. 
Rimbaud  has  them,  and  my  mother  has  a  copy ; 
they  are  more  or  less  of  the  diabolical  order. 
Titles  :  La  Grace  —  Don  Juan  Pipe"  —  Crimen 
Amoris, — 150,  140,  and  100  lines;  the  volume  will 
be  nearly  1,200  lines." 

The  Almanack  to  which  he  alludes  was  then 
entitled  :  Mon  Almanack  pour  1874.  It  was  a 
single  poem  divided  into  four  parts  with  titles,  the 
first  of  which  was  Le  Printemps,  beginning  "  La 
bise  se  rue  a  travers.  ..."  It  is  now  included  in 
Sagesse  and  has  no  title,  but  is  numbered  1 1 .  After 
the  1 3th  line  it  reads:  "J'ai  des  fourmis  dans 
les  talons,"  while  on  my  manuscript  were  the 


816  PAUL  VERLAINE 

words:  "Voici  1'Avril.  Vieux  cceur,  aliens!" 
immediately  after  which  came  L*&U\  "  L'Espoir 
luit  comme  un  brin  de  paille  dans  1'^table"  .  .  . 
while  in  the  edition  of  the  complete  works,  vol.  i., 
page  278,  Printemps  continues  with  this  variant : 

"  Debout,  mon  ame,  vite,  aliens  ! 
C'est  le  printemps  severe  encore, 
Mais  qui,  par  instant,  s'edulcore !  .  .  ." 

these  eight  lines  being  added  by  Verlaine  after- 
wards. 

L'£t4,  which  figures  without  a  title  in  Sagesse 
on  page  268,  vol.  i.  of  the  complete  works,  and 
numbered  3,  has  also  some  variants.  L'Automne 
is  entitled  Vendanges,  and  forms  part  of  Jadis  et 
Naguere. 

The  prisoner  seemed  to  be  endeavouring  to 
throw  off  his  depression,  and  to  concentrate  himself 
less  on  his  troubles.  He  asked  me  for  political 
news  ;  it  had  a  personal  interest  for  him,  on  account 
of  the  steps  that  were  taken,  unfortunately  in  vain, 
to  obtain  a  pardon,  or  reduction  of  sentence,  no 
intimation  of  any  kind  from  the  Quai  d'Orsay  reach- 
ing Brussels. 

Hoping  against  hope,  however,  the  prisoner 
wrote  to  me : 

"MONS  1874, 

"  I  am  forced  to  adjourn  the  famous  volume  on 
Les  Choses ;  it  would  necessitate  too  much  tension 
of  the  mind,  and  I  find  I  cannot  work  very  hard 
here  without  getting  ill  ...  some  news  would  give 
me  much  pleasure.  .  .  .  Tell  me  what  publisher 
you  have  in  view  for  my  next  book.  It  is  ridiculous 
this  proscription  from  Lemerre's ;  it  dates  from 
the  Commune,  would  you  believe  it?  Leconte  de 


ROMANCES  SANS  PAROLES  317 

Lisle  ...  has  regarded  me  as  an  ogre  since  then, 
and  after  this  last  affair,  probably  something  worse. 
Lemerre,  I  know,  has  no  part  in  the  matter,  and  I 
send  him  greeting.  Tell  me  a  little  of  what  is  going 
on  in  the  political  world. 

"  I  have  no  idea  when  I  shall  be  set  free. 
According  to  the  system  here  the  fact  of  my 
solitary  confinement  entitles  me  to  a  reduction  of 
six  months,  which  with  the  five  already  passed 
reduces  the  time  to  thirteen  months ;  but  I  ought 
to  be  able  to  count  on  other  ordinary  little  reduc- 
tions :  two  months,  three  months,  especially  with 
the  good  record  I  have.  Then  there  are  royal 
pardons  to  be  obtained  by  petition,  which  may  be 
plenary.  I  have  also  my  quality  of  foreigner.  My 
mother  and  M.  Istace  are  actively  occupied  in 
regard  to  the  matter,  and  liberty  may  be  mine 
any  day,  or  not  for  a  long  time.  As  you  say,  I 
must  be  patient,  and  time  is  always  on  the  wing. 

"  Make  no  allusion  to  this  letter,  even  destroy 
it;  it  is  not  passing  through  the  hands  of  the 
authorities. 

"  I  am  making  some  hymns  to  Mary  like  those 
of  the  early  church;  I  enclose  one.  It  has  nothing 
odd  about  it,  except  the  title,  which  is  a  monogram 
from  the  catacombs." 

In  this  curious  and  composite  letter  —  for 
Verlaine  had  copied  in  it  some  melancholy  verses, 
a  Prisoners  Lament :  Les  Ddjas  sont  les  Encors 
.  .  .  and  a  mediocre  comic  song  entitled  Faut  Hurler 
avec  les  Loups  ornamented  with  a  vague  representa- 
tion of  my  silhouette,  and  introduced  thus  :  Theatre 
des  Folies-Hainaut,  chansonnette  par  M.  Pablo  de 
Herlanez,  sung  by  M.  Ed.  Lepelletier  —  was  a 
second  P.S.  written  across  the  commencement  of  a 
poem  :  Le  Bon  Alchimiste. 


318  PAUL  VERLAINE 

"Ma  foi,  to  be  continued  in  our  next.  I  profit 
by  a  little  space  to  ask  you  to  send  a  copy  to 
Andrieu ;  his  address  is  M.  William  Knock,  32 
or  34  Richmond  Garden,  Uxbridge  Road,  London, 
and  don't  forget  the  others,  Vermersch,  Barjau,  etc. 

"  One  word  more.  Shall  it  be  sent  to  my  wife  ? 
Decide,  I  might  have,  alas !  I  speak  in  all  sincerity, 
prepared  other  verses  for  her  than  Birds  in  the 
Night,  which  is  the  true  history  of  Brussels.  And 
certainly,  with  what  is  still  in  my  heart  for  her,  it 
should  be  a  song  of  songs,  but  habent  fata  .  .  .  you 
decide.  As  for  me,  a  poor  prison  brute,  I  have  no 
judgment  now  in  such  things." 

In  accordance  with  what  I  knew  to  be  his  wish, 
I  sent  a  copy  of  the  Romances  sans  Paroles  to  Mme. 
Mathilde  Verlaine  on  publication.  I  received  no 
acknowledgment.  The  book  was  printed  and  pro- 
duced in  February  -  March  1874.  I  received  the 
following  list  of  those  to  whom  copies  were  to  be 
sent,  through  Verlaine's  mother. 

"  For  the  press  :  Jules  Clare  tie,  Ernest  Lefevre, 
Charles  Yriarte,  Charles  Monselet,  Paul  Mahalin, 
Ludovic  Hans,  Armand  Silvestre,  Paul  Courty, 
Barbey  d'Aurevilly,  Jules  Levallois,  Louis  Dom- 
martin,  and  all  the  other  critics  Lepelletier  may 
select.  With  the  note  :  *  From  the  author. ' 

"  Paul  Meurice  and  Auguste  Vacquerie  :  '  With 
the  author's  compliments.' 

"In  London  :  M.  Camille  Barrere,  a  souvenir  of 
the  author  ;  M.  Eugene  Vermersch,  from  his  friend 
P.  V. ;  M.  Jules  Andrieu,  in  cordial  remembrance; 
M.  Dubacq,  ditto ;  M.  Guerreau,  ditto  ;  M.  Swin- 
burne (through  MM.  Barrere  and  Andrieu)  with  the 
author's  compliments  ;  M.  Barjau,  a  souvenir  of  the 
author. 


ROMANCES  SANS  PAEOLES  319 

"Send  all  these  to  M.  Barjau,  bookseller,  Frith 
Street,  Soho,  London. 

"To  MM.  Victor  Hugo  and  Theodore  de 
Banville,  to  my  dear  master ;  Leconte  de  Lisle, 
with  the  author's  compliments  ;  Alphonse  Lemerre, 
with  kind  regards ;  Paul  Foucher  de  Goncourt, 
with  the  author's  compliments ;  Emmanuel  des 
Essarts,  Carjat,  Catulle  Mendes,  Victor  Azam, 
Antony,  Valabregue,  De  Heredia,  Villiers  de  1' Isle- 
Adam,  A.  France,  Le*on  Dierx,  Louis  Forain, 
Valade,  Emile  Ble"mont,  from  his  friend ;  Ste*phane 
Mallarme',  Me*rat,  Aicard,  Elze"ar,  Bonnier,  Fantin, 
Maitre,  Charly,  Oliveira,  very  cordially ;  Coppe'e, 
Mile.  Adele  Aneste,  Mme.  de  Callias,  F.  Regamey, 
Charles  de  Sivry,  with  cordial  remembrance." 

Also  the  following  note  in  Verlaine's  hand- 
writing : 

"  Lepelletier  will  endeavour  to  collect  the  reviews 
and  send  them  to  my  mother.  He  will  particularly 
watch  Le  National  on  Sunday  evening,  when  M.  de 
Banville's  dramatic  criticisms  appear,  which  at  the 
end  frequently  deal  with  books.  The  publication  of 
this  volume  will  be  a  great  consolation  to  me.  I 
commend  it  to  Lepelletier's  friendship.  It  will  be 
like  a  resurrection,  I  shall  be  very  grateful  to  him. 
He  can  do  as  he  likes  about  the  dedication,  though 
I  should  prefer  it  to  stand. 

"  Add  to  the  books  in  preparation. 

"  In  the  press  :  Londres :  Notes  pittoresques. 

"This  little  work  will  reach  Lepelletier  in 
instalments,  and  he  will  try  to  get  it  inserted  in 
some  paper,  under  my  name  or  the  pseudonym 
Firmin  DeheV 

I  did  not  have  to  collect  the  reviews  for  none 
appeared  ;  Verlaine  was  practically  dead  and  buried. 


3*0  PAUL   VERLAINE 

His  resurrection  was  not  to  come  until  later.  I 
sent  out  the  copies,  but  except  for  two  or  three  of 
the  recipients,  kind-hearted  and  of  lesser  import- 
ance, I  received  no  acknowledgment  to  transmit 
to  the  imprisoned  poet. 

He  wrote  to  me  again  on  27th  March  1874,  point- 
ing out  a  few  printer's  errors,  but  adding  that  he  was 

"very  satisfied,  very  satisfied,  and  very  grate- 
ful for  all  the  care  that  has  been  taken.  And  now," 
he  went  on,  "  comes  the  question  of  the  buyer. 
As  to  the  price  per  copy,  what  do  you  say  to  two 
francs?  ...  If  it  could  be  any  higher  I  should  be 
a  hundred  miles  from  raising  any  opposition.  .  .  . 
I  await  with  impatience  the  promised  letter  of 
criticism  ...  on  the  said  '  work '  as  you  call  it  so 
magnificently.  Add  L.-X.  de  Ricard,  Charles 
Asselineau,  and  Gouzien  to  the  free  list.  .  .  . 

"It  would  be  a  good  thing  to  send  it  to  some 
English  and  Belgian  papers  ;  I  can  recollect  nothing 
English  except  the  Pall  Mall  Gazette.  Send  two  or 
three  copies  for  the  purpose  to  Barrere,  besides  his 
own,  which  I  am  most  desirous  he  should  have. 
(Then  followed  some  suggestions  for  the  Belgian 
press,  and  he  concluded  with  the  suggestion  that  it 
might  be  well  to  let  them  know  that  he  was  a 
prisoner  in  the  country.)  It  might  help  me  to 
come  out  sooner.  P.  V." 

Verlaine  worked  in  his  prison,  meditating  poems, 
dreaming  of  plays,  studying  English.  He  even 
wanted  to  give  himself  up  to  regular  translations 
of  contemporary  English  authors,  and  to  found 
an  agency  for  translation  as  will  be  seen  later  on. 
Sometimes,  for  he  had  a  fund  of  gaiety,  occasionally 
rather  vulgar  and  vaudevillesque,  he  amused  him- 
self by  sending  me  parodies,  recalling  the  good 


ROMANCES  SANS  PAROLES 

time  when  he  worked  on  Le  Hanneton  with 
Copp^e.  The  following  was  in  regard  to  a  rumour 
which  had  spread,  but  was  almost  immediately  con- 
tradicted (I  had  mentioned  it  to  the  prisoner)  that 
our  Parnassian  comrade,  Albert  Merat,  had  hung 
himself.  The  poet  of  the  Chimeres,  far  from  ending 
his  days  in  the  forest  of  Fontainebleau,  is  very  much 
alive  still.  He  has  been  librarian  of  the  Senate 
House  and  never  ceased  to  rhyme. 

"  Les  ecrevisses  ont  mange  mon  cceur  qui  saigne, 
Et  me  voici  loge  maintenant  a  1'enseigne 
De  ceux  dont  Carjat  dit :  *  Oetait  un  beau  talent, 
Mais  pas  de  caracftre]  et  je  vais,  bras  ballant, 
Sans  limite,  et  sans  but,  ainsi  qu'un  fiacre  a  1'heure, 
Pale,  ajeun,  et  trouve  trop  c...  (chose)  par  Gill  qui  pleure. 
'  Mourir,  dormir ! '  a  dit  Shakespeare.     Si  ce  n'est 
Que  9a,  je  cours  vers  la  foret  que  Ton  connait, 
Et  puisque  c'est  fictif,  j'y  vais  pendre  a  mon  aise 
Ton  beau  poete  blond,  faune  barbizonnaise  \  " 

"  Kind  remembrances  to  your  sister.  I  often 
hear  of  you  from  my  mother,  who  is  not  well 
just  now.  I  know  that  Laura  often  goes  to  see 
her  in  the  solitude  in  which  I  think  she  is  wrong 
to  shut  herself  up,  and  I  am  very  grateful  for  the 
kind  attention.  My  mother  will  probably  come 
and  see  me  next  month,  after  Easter.  She  will 
doubtless  remain  some  weeks  in  Brussels,  where 
she  will  see  if  it  is  possible  to  obtain  a  reduction 
of  my  time,  which  would  be  most  welcome,  for 
it  is  dreadfully  long,  and  my  health,  mental  and 
physical,  especially  during  the  last  few  weeks, 
has  not  been  without  various  impedimenta.  In 
particular,  I  have  blanks  of  memory  and  absences 
of  mind  which  irritate  and  make  me  uneasy.  I 
hope  to  get  over  all  this,  but  I  repeat  a  reduc- 
tion of  time  would  not  only  earn  my  gratitude, 
but  restore  my  courage. 

X 


322  PAUL  VERLAINE 

"  Indeed  prison  life  is  not  calculated  to  stimulate 
one  to  any  intellectual  work  whatsoever.  You  speak 
of  verse — for  a  good  long  time  that  has  been  given 
up  and  over.  All  that  I  can  do  is  to  work  away  at 
that  everlasting  English.  Truth  to  say,  I  know  it 
well  enough  now  to  read,  without  much  reference  to 
the  dictionary,  the  Tauchnitz  novels  which  are  in  the 
library  here.  I  mean  to  translate,  with  a  view  to 
its  publication  by  Hachette,  a  remarkable  work  by 
Lady  Gullerton,  Ellen  Middleton. 

"  Meanwhile,  I  have  all  ready  for  the  Renaissance  t 
since  they  pay,  a  delicious  story  by  Dickens,  not  yet 
translated.  When  my  mother  comes  I  will  send  you 
through  her  the  little  manuscript  of  the  pages.  If 
the  Renaissance  does  not  accept  it,  will  you  do  me 
the  kindness  of  placing  it  in  some  other  paying 
quarter,  and  obtaining  the  money  for  me  ?  Mis- 
fortune has  its  advantages,  and  once  outside,  I 
am  counting  on  utilising  my  new  acquirement  in 
enterprises  of  this  kind.  In  London  there  are  a 
number  of  good  writers  full  of  talent,  perfectly  un- 
known in  France,  who  would  agree  with  enthusiasm 
to  translations  of  their  works  into  our  language. 
The  difficulty  is  not  to  find  them — they  swarm — 
but  to  find  a  publisher  to  undertake  to  pay  for 
translations,  other  than  those  already  in  circulation. 
At  the  worst  I  would  establish  a  "house"  (there 
are  no  small  traders).  Such  an  enterprise  would 
have  no  risk.  There  is  money  in  it,  and  besides 
that  it  would  help  literature. 

"This  is  only  one  of  my  schemes,  for  I  intend, 
when  I  come  out,  to  return  to  Paris  (after  having 
obtained  in  London  an  assurance  of  my  absolute 
security),  and  there  I  hope  to  settle  down  seriously. 
I  have  learned  to  leave  nothing  to  chance,  and  my 
first  step  will  be  to  attach  myself  to  that  anchor  of 
well-being,  an  office.  Adventures  in  literature  and 
translation  can  come  afterwards.  I  have  not  given 


ROMANCES  SANS  PAROLE  323 

up  all  hope  of  returning  to  the  H6tel-de-Ville.  After 
all,  I  am  neither  a  deserter  nor  a  Communist,  like 
several  we  know,  who  are  now  peacefully  pursuing 
their  occupations.  And  as  to  my  imprisonment, 
there  is  nothing,  I  dare  to  flatter  myself,  dishonour- 
ing in  that,  it  is  a  misfortune,  but  one  that  can 
be  repaired,  I  believe.  How  I  go  on  talking.  I 
will  stop  to  urge  you  not  to  be  so  slow  in  replying 
to  me.  Besides,  you  owe  me  information  with 
regard  to  my  book  and  the  reviews  of  it.  Do 
not  be  afraid  to  give  me  news.  .  .  .  When  it 
reaches  me  the  events  are  too  distant  and,  as  it 
were,  too  immemorial  to  cause  me  any  trouble ; 
so  give  yourself  a  free  rein,  and  keep  your  promise 
to  write  soon." 

Here  is  another  letter  : 

"  MONS,  1874. 

"  I  have  reflected  that  it  would  be  best  when 
you  write  to  me  to  avoid  any  mention  of  my 
new  ideas,  even  to  approve  them.  They  are  too 
serious  to  be  dealt  with  in  correspondence,  and 
besides,  later  on,  I  hope  to  have  plenty  of  time 
to  explain  them  to  you.  Meanwhile,  procure  an 
excellent  book  which  will  interest  you  even  from 
the  historical  point  of  view,  and  will  perhaps  con- 
vince you.  Do  not  be  daunted  by  the  too  modest 
title,  Cat&kisme  de  Perseverance,  by  Mgr.  Gaume. 
All  I  can  tell  you  now  is  that  I  am  feeling  in 
a  great,  an  immense  degree,  what  one  experi- 
ences when,  the  first  difficulties  surmounted,  one 
enters  upon  a  science,  an  art,  a  new  language, 
and  also  that  wonderful  sense  of  having  escaped 
a  great  danger.  I  entreat  you  not  to  say  a  word 
to  any  one  of  what  I  write  —  to  any  one  who 
does  not  know  me,  like  those  of  the  Rue  Nicolet. 
Tear  up  my  letter,  keeping  only  the  verses  (of 
Sagesse\  Keep  my  communications  entirely  to 


324  PAUL   VERLAINE 

yourself.  If  any  one  asks  you  after  me  say  that 
you  know  I  am  well,  and  that  I  am  absolutely 
converted  to  the  Catholic  religion,  after  mature 
reflection,  being  in  full  possession  of  my  moral 
liberty  and  my  common  sense.  .  .  . 

"The  poem,  Amoureuse  du  Diable,  is  one  of 
a  series  of  which  you  already  have  L  Impenitence 
Finale,  and  which  contains  three  other  little  poems, 
Crimen  Amoris,  La  Grace,  and  Don  Juan  Pipe. 

"With  my  new  ideas  I  do  not  know  if  I  shall 

fo  on  with  my  dramatic  projects.     I  should  like  to. 
have  two  fine  subjects,  irreproachable,  although 
very  daring,  some  scenes  of  which  are  commenced. 
These  are  not  the  important  thing. 

"Au  revoir!  I  know  now  what  true  courage 
is.  Stoicism  is  melancholy  folly.  I  have  some- 
thing better ;  and  this  something  I  desire  for  you, 
too,  my  friend.  But  I  can  still  see  a  joke.  I 
don't  think  I  am  an  austere  devotee,  all  gentle- 
ness towards  others,  all  submission  to  The  Other, 
that  is  my  plan." 

Solitary  confinement  had  certainly  an  influence 
upon  Verlaine's  ideas,  opinions,  and  mental  objec- 
tives ;  but  the  change  had  not  come  about  so 
suddenly  as  he  said,  nor  so  definitely  as  he  believed. 
The  prison  led  to  his  conversion  and  modified  his 
temperament,  he  declared  in  Mes  Prisons,  but  that 
book  was  written  a  long  time  afterwards,  during  a 
totally  different  phase.  However,  at  this  time  two 
transformations  were  completed  in  Verlaine.  From 
an  unbeliever,  if  not  militant  at  least  avowed,  he 
became  a  theoretical  believer,  a  fervent  Catholic, 
— almost  a  devotee  ;  and,  moreover,  in  his  poems 
he  finally  abandoned  the  objective,  descriptive, 
impersonal,  impassible  method,  the  force  and 
superiority  of  which  the  principal  Parnassians  ex- 


ROMANCES  SANS  PAROLES  325 

tolled,  and  became  a  personal,  subjective,  intimate, 
impassioned,  ironical,  and  sentimental  poet.  He 
sang  not  of  what  he  saw  with  his  bodily  eyes, 
but  with  his  soul's  vision,  and  from  the  violin  of 
his  heart  his  poetic  bow  drew  forth  harmonies 
sad  and  delicate,  such  as  awaken  slumbering  echoes 
in  other  wounded  hearts.  These  two  conversions 
were  not  the  unique  result  of  his  incarceration, 
although  naturally  such  abrupt  transplantation 
would  modify  any  human  plant. 

We  have  already  noted  three  stages  in  our 
poet's  interior  development.  First,  in  early  youth 
his  classical  Voltairian  education  at  the  Lycee, 
then  his  romantic  initiation  and  the  culture  of 
the  Parnassians,  and  thirdly,  marriage,  patriotic 
enthusiasm,  and  a  certain  exaltation,  if  not  revolu- 
tionary, at  least  democratic,  anti-religious.  With 
these  periods  corresponds  a  poetical  conception, 
descriptive,  objective,  pompous,  decorative,  plastic, 
virulent,  and  a  trifle  declamatory :  the  Poemes 
Saturniens,  the  Fetes  Galantes,  La  Bonne  Chanson, 
and  Les  Vaincus.  In  spite  of  its  personal,  almost 
biographical  character,  La  Bonne  Chanson  was 
partly  objective ;  while  the  poet  set  forth  his  own 
desires  as  a  lover,  he  also  expressed  the  sentiments 
and  ecstasies  of  a  lover  in  the  abstract,  the  lover 
in  himself,  to  use  the  pedantic  terminology  of  the 
philosophers.  There  was  a  general  echo,  a  universal 
cry  in  this  song  which  chronicled  his  love.  But 
already  in  La  Bonne  Chanson  there  were  indications 
of  transition,  evolution.  Nature  abhors  a  vacuumi 
and  in  the  transformation  of  a  soul  there  are  no 
interruptions  nor  breaks  ;  each  link  is  indissolubly 
connected  with  those  preceding  and  following  it. 


326  PAUL   VERLAINE 

The  Romances  sans  Paroles  is  linked  to  La 
Bonne  Chanson,  and  the  transition  is  apparent. 
He  had  reached  the  third  stage,  with  its  material 
changes,  its  violent  perturbations :  the  siege  and  its 
temptations  to  drink,  the  Commune  and  its  terrible 
excesses,  the  fear  of  prosecution,  the  abandonment 
of  regular  employment,  the  days  of  idleness,  the 
meeting  with  Arthur  Rimbaud,  the  growing  influence 
of  that  energetic,  interesting,  imperious  youth,  with 
his  incoherent  yet  expressive  verse,  which  sought 
for  and  found  colour  in  the  vowels ;  then  the  flight 
from  home,  rupture  of  family  ties,  and  an  independent 
wandering,  Bohemian  life.  His  poetry  naturally 
follows  the  variation  in  his  existence.  The  Romances 
sans  Paroles  bears  witness  to  a  mental  revolution. 
He  is  no  longer  the  poet  of  the  F£tes  galantes 
describing  the  familiar  features  of  the  Belgian  land- 
scapes. The  separation  and  the  law-suit  it  entailed 
completed  the  transformation  both  of  his  life  and 
his  poetry.  His  ideas,  sentiments,  desires,  and 
opinions  underwent  a  radical  alteration,  and  with 
this  change  in  his  mind  was  a  corresponding 
change  in  his  method  of  writing.  He  entered  upon 
a  new  existence.  He  dreamed  of  a  new  style  of 
verse. 

It  was  not  the  prison  which  suggested  to  him 
the  idea  of  another  system  of  rhythm,  a  search  for 
new  cadences  and  metres  culminating  in  an  entirely 
original  method  of  versification.  Several  times  in 
his  letters  he  spoke  to  me  of  an  innovation  he  was 
contemplating,  an  idea  he  wished  to  put  into 
practice.  The  complete  isolation  of  his  cell  doubt- 
less permitted  him  to  reflect  more  profoundly  on 
the  modifications  he  proposed  to  introduce  into  his 


ROMANCES  SANS  PAROLES  327 

method  and  style,  but  it  was  not  then  that  he  first 
conceived  the  idea.  Captivity  in  its  separation, 
both  from  people  and  things,  while  it  constrained 
him  to  find  resource  in  himself,  he  who  was  so  open 
to  outward  impressions,  also  inspired  him  with  new 
reflections,  unwonted  thoughts.  His  sensations 
were  different  from  those  he  had  experienced  in 
a  state  of  liberty.  What  wonder,  therefore,  that 
he  expressed  in  a  new  manner  the  impressions  of 
a  new  environment,  and  even  as  his  temperament 
as  a  poet  was  modified,  so  was  his  character  as  a 
man,  but  less  definitely,  for  his  moral  conversion 
did  not  last  long,  at  least  in  an  ardent  and  active 
state.  He  divested  himself  of  the  old  man  during 
these  sixteen  months  of  imprisonment,  because  the 
penitentiary  system  necessitated  an  entire  change 
in  his  habits  and  manner  of  life.  As  a  prisoner  he 
was  of  necessity  sober,  which  altered  him  physically 
and  morally,  and  changed  the  cast  of  his  mind. 
His  customary  excitement  was  diminished,  the 
habitual  irritation  of  his  nerves  soothed.  By 
degrees  he  regained  possession  of  himself,  came 
to  his  mental  senses. 

A  little  shame  and  a  great  peace  rose  from  his 
heart  to  his  lips.  He  grew  gentler,  no  longer 
swore,  nor,  as  had  been  his  wont,  took  the  name  of 
God  in  vain.  He  blushed  at  the  thought  of  his 
past,  reproached  himself  with  all  the  blamable, 
extravagant,  ridiculous,  and  shocking  things  he 
had  done.  He  was  no  longer  irritated  against 
any  but  himself,  and  the  memory  of  his  errors  and 
misdeeds.  In  the  tranquillity  of  his  cell  he  pro- 
ceeded to  a  strict  and  rigorous  examination  of  his 
conscience.  He  found  himself,  as  it  were,  placed 


328  PAUL   VERLAINE 

in  front  of  a  mirror,  which  reflected  in  turn  the 
various  events  of  his  life  and  the  images  of  those 
with  whom  he  had  come  into  contact.  As  he 
recalled  his  life,  he  raised  that  superb  despairing 
cry,  "What  have  I  done  with  my  youth?"  Dis- 
couragement seized  him,  and  he  was  a  prey  to 
violent  moral  depression,  at  the  end  of  his  energy, 
purged  of  his  pride  :  struggling  amidst  an  ocean 
of  recollections,  regrets,  irritations,  and  despair,  he 
sought  for  a  buoy  to  which  to  attach  himself,  a  rope 
to  hold  on  to,  a  boat  as  refuge. 

While  in  this  state  of  affliction  there  awakened 
in  one  of  the  recesses  of  his  troubled  brain  an 
emotion,  a  thought  that  had  for  long  been  slumber- 
ing :  the  religious  idea.  The  conception  of  help 
from  above  took  shape  in  his  inner  consciousness, 
and  even  as  mechanically,  atavistically  the  least 
devout  at  a  critical  moment  cry  out  "  Mon  Dieu," 
like  so  many  unbelievers  at  the  point  of  death, 
he  called  upon  the  Lord,  and  his  conversion  was 
effected. 

Was  it  deep  and  genuine  ?  I  do  not  think  so. 
It  was  a  temporary  impulse,  an  emotion  in  which 
reason  had  no  part.  I  do  not  mean  that  Verlaine 
simulated  devotion  nor  that  he  was  attacked  by 
religious  mania.  I  simply  doubt  the  reality  of  the 
return  of  his  childish  faith  and  its  capability  of 
persistence.  He  was  not  converted  by  force  of 
reasoning,  by  conviction,  but  only  by  the  violence 
of  one  of  life's  storms,  by  the  moral  and  material 
tempest  in  which  he  felt  himself  carried  away.  He 
invoked  God  in  his  anguish  ;  the  trouble  past,  it 
remained  to  be  seen  if  the  mood  would  continue. 
Verlaine  had  made  his  first  communion,  like  all 


ROMANCES  SANS  PAROLES  329 

the  rest  of  us,  in  his  school  days.  But  his  fervour 
had  only  been  momentary,  and  his  faith  like  ours, 
superficial.  I  affirm  that  in  his  youth  he  did  not 
believe;  he  had  not  only  grown  weary  of  the 
practice  of  religion,  but  put  it  away  from  him  for 
lack  of  faith.  We  had  read  together,  among  other 
materialistic  works,  the  book  then  celebrated  and 
regarded  as  daring,  Doctor  Buchner's  Force  et 
Matiere,  drawing  from  it  scientific  arguments,  not  for 
the  purpose  of  cavil  and  discussion — at  our  Parnas- 
sian gatherings  we  never  spoke  of  religion,  and  very 
rarely  of  politics — but  for  the  sake  of  instruction 
and  to  fortify  our  philosophical  convictions.  From 
reading  and  reflection  we  had  become  persuaded 
of  the  non-existence  of  the  supernatural,  the 
impossibility  of  a  tutelary  providence  and  of  another 
world ;  we  no  longer  believed  in  the  supremacy 
of  an  exterior  power,  dominating  and  governing 
humanity,  judging,  rewarding,  and  punishing  its 
every  action.  Verlaine,  therefore,  at  the  age  of 
twenty,  was  an  absolute  unbeliever,  by  force  of 
reason,  conviction,  and  study,  and  not  through  gross 
material  indifference,  as  is  the  case  with  those  who 
neither  know  nor  think.  His  atheism  was  rational 
and  intelligent. 

But  the  religious  instinct,  the  result  of  heredity 
and  early  education — for  at  eleven  years  of  age  we 
have  all  sung  hymns  and  listened  to  miraculous 
legends — existed  in  him  ;  it  was  slumbering,  and 
trouble  awakened  it ;  that  childish  feeling  of  appeal 
to  God,  the  Great  Physician,  who  can  cure  the 
ills  of  the  soul,  our  defence  against  the  evils  and 
dangers  that  assail  and  menace  us.  Besides  the 
chastening  of  confinement  and  isolation,  and  the 


330  PAUL   VERLAINE 

examination  of  his  past  life,  for  all  these  depressing 
conditions  influenced  his  feelings  and  made  him 
invoke  the  support  of  God  in  his  distress,  Verlaine 
received  a  brutal  blow,  not  entirely  unexpected  nor 
unforeseen,  but  resolutely  put  from  him  by  optimistic 
hope  and  favourable  hypothesis,  until  he  had  come 
to  regard  it  as  improbable,  if  not  impossible.  This 
it  was  which  decided  the  change  and  brought  about 
his  conversion. 

In  his  book,  Mes  Prisons,  Verlaine  minutely 
described  the  interior  of  his  prison,  explained  its 
rules,  narrated  its  exercises,  and  presented  a  picture 
of  himself  wearing  the  melancholy  penitentiary 
uniform.  He  sketched  the  superintendent,  whom 
he  called  a  charming  man,  and  did  not  forget  a 
single  detail,  mentioning  even  a  little  copper  crucifix 
"  with  which  he  was  later  to  become  acquainted." 
In  the  first  weeks  of  his  incarceration  no  half- 
forgotten  prayer  rose  to  the  lips  of  the  prisoner 
accustomed  to  complete  liberty,  even  licence  and 
blasphemy.  He  read,  for  books  were  supplied, 
but  only  secular  works.  He  did  not  mention  the 
chaplain,  desiring  neither  his  intervention  nor  his 
favour,  and  the  visit  not  being  compulsory  avoided  it. 

But  one  morning  the  door  of  his  cell  opened 
and  the  good  -  natured  superintendent  appeared. 
He  seemed  saddened  by  some  melancholy  com- 
munication he  had  to  make  to  his  prisoner.  "  My 
poor  friend,"  he  said  to  Verlaine,  who  started  up 
on  his  bed  with  something  of  the  terror  of  those 
condemned  to  die,  "  I  bring  you  bad  news.  Courage. 
Read  this."  And  he  handed  him  a  stamped  paper, 
the  legal  declaration  of  a  separation  between  Paul 
Verlaine  and  Mathilde  Maute",  his  wife. 


ROMANCES  SANS  PAEOLES  331 

Thus  the  dreams  of  peace,  reconciliation,  restored 
happiness,  and  a  regular  life  which  Verlaine's  mind 
had  harboured,  even  in  the  height  of  his  indigna- 
tion, faded  away.  While  he  had  been  in  prison 
the  hope  had  revived,  and  knowing  nothing  of 
what  was  going  on,  for  he  received  no  letters,  and 
his  mother  did  not  enlighten  his  ignorance,  he 
had  lived  in  a  fool's  paradise ;  therefore  the  blow 
fell  heavily  upon  him  and  overwhelmed  him.  He 
recovered  himself,  but  the  wound  was  deep  and 
incurable.  To  quote  his  own  words  : 

"  I  fell  back  in  tears  upon  my  poor  bed.  A 
grasp  of  the  hand  and  a  pat  on  the  shoulder  from 
the  superintendent  gave  me  back  a  little  courage, 
and  it  was  but  an  hour  or  two  afterwards  I  begged 
that  the  chaplain  would  come  and  speak  to  me. 
He  came  and  I  asked  him  for  a  catechism.  He 
immediately  gave  me  the  one  on  perseverance  by 
Mgr.  Gaume." 

Thus  was  Verlaine's  conversion  effected.  It 
would  seem  from  his  manner  of  relating  it  that 
there  was  something  factitious  in  such  suddenness. 
In  his  loneliness  and  misery  he  set  out  upon  this 
new  road,  at  first  with  anxiety,  afterwards  with  hope 
and  even  joy.  but  when  his  circumstances  changed 
he  fell  back  into  his  old  ways. 

Once  more  free,  and  back  again  among  his  old 
companions,  he  lost  the  fervour  of  the  neophyte, 
and  his  faith  evaporated,  leaving  only  a  superficial 
and  poetical  taste  for  religion.  There  seemed  to 
have  been  something  of  hysteria  in  the  manifesta- 
tions following  his  conversion,  and  judging  from 
his  narrative  I  should  say  that  his  mystic  adoration 


382  PAUL   VERLAINE 

was  tinged  with  literary  dilettantism.  On  the 
wall  of  his  cell  there  hung  above  the  regulation 
little  copper  crucifix,  a  lithograph  representing  the 
SacrJ-Cceur.  The  continual  sight  of  this  image 
accelerated  his  conversion ;  as  a  luminous,  attractive, 
dominating  point,  it  exercised  a  sort  of  hypnotic 
effect. 

"  Something,  I  know  not  what  or  whom,  suddenly 
raised  me,"  said  Verlaine,  "threw  me  out  of  bed, 
and  without  even  leaving  me  time  to  dress  pros- 
trated me  sobbing  and  weeping  at  the  foot  of  the 
crucifix,  and  of  that  other  image  which  has  evoked 
the  strangest,  and  in  my  eyes  the  most  sublime 
devotion  of  modern  times." 

Again  he  asked  for  the  chaplain.  "  I  would 
have  been  martyred  for  my  faith,"  he  confessed, 
and  he  cried  out  for  the  worthy  ecclesiastic,  who  was 
a  little  surprised  at  the  vivacity  of  the  catechumen  in 
the  excitement  of  his  new  experience  :  "  I  know,  I 
believe,  I  am  undeceived,"  and  claimed  on  the  spot 
absolution  for  his  sins  after  a  general  confession  of 
them.  The  prudent  chaplain,  however,  postponed 
the  unloading  of  the  overcharged  conscience  of  his 
urgent  penitent,  and  it  took  place  later.  Verlaine 
describing  it,  said  : 

"  I  received  humbly  and  contritely,  after  my  very 
veracious  and  conscientious  confession,  a  benedic- 
tion, but  not  at  once  the  greatly  coveted  absolution. 
While  awaiting  it,  in  accordance  with  the  advice 
of  my  spiritual  director,  I  resumed  my  occupations, 
varied  reading  and  the  making  of  pious  verse 
principally.  Sagesse  dates  from  about  this  period." 
(Mes  Prisons,  pp.  60- 6 1.) 


ROMANCES  SANS  PAROLES  33S 

Verlaine's  conversion  was,  therefore,  both  moral 
and  poetical.  Although  he  had  seldom  used  religious 
terminology  in  his  early  poems  he  had  deep  down 
in  his  memory  a  stock  of  suitable  phrases,  a 
vocabulary  all  ready  for  the  rendering  of  devotional 
feelings,  and  he  experienced  not  only  the  new 
birth  of  his  soul,  but  also  a  renewal  of  all  the 
poetical  structures,  dirty  and  dusty  with  time  and 
wear,  which  he  and  other  poets  had  built  in  accord- 
ance with  set  and  almost  invariable  plans.  The 
Parnasse  had  been  Pagan,  Oriental,  Colonial,  and 
Scandinavian,  invoking  all  the  divinities  issued  from 
the  imagination  and  the  terror  of  men,  Baghavat, 
Yaveh,  Kronos,  I  sis,  Odin  :  Jesus  alone  had  been 
ignored.  Verlaine  estimated  that  without  under- 
taking to  sing  the  Christian  cosmogony,  there  was  in 
the  Catholic  sentiment,  in  the  preciosity  and  delicacy 
of  the  adoration  of  Christ  and  the  Virgin  Mary,  a 
very  rebirth  of  poetry  to  be  sought  for,  found,  and 
interpreted.  Thus  he  translated  the  unction  of  the 
catechism  of  Mgr.  Gaume,  and  set  it  to  metre 
inspired  by  Desbordes-Valmore.  In  this  way  most 
of  the  verses  of  Sagesse  were  contemplated,  rhymed, 
and  written.  A  large  number  of  the  poems  figuring 
in  this  delightful  and  affecting  collection  came  to  me 
in  manuscript,  always  on  the  common  bluish  or  dirty 
white  paper  supplied  by  the  canteen  with  the  office 
stamp  in  the  centre. 

After  Verlaine's  conversion  his  letters  became 
more  rare,  either  that  he  feared  raillery  from  me, 
or  that  he  felt  some  embarrassment  at  writing 
down  sentiments  so  new  to  him. 

A  letter  he  wrote  to  me,  giving  details  regarding 
the  state  of  his  soul   and  analysing  his    religious 


33*  PAUL   VERLAINE 

aspirations,  never  reached  me.  At  the  last  moment 
he  changed  his  mind  and  sent  me  merely  the 
following  note  at  a  later  date  : 

"MoNS,  %th  September  1874. 

"  My  letter  of  the  22nd  August  for  grave 
reasons  was  not  despatched.  I  now  send  you  this 
postscript,  dated  8th  September :  still  four  months, 
fourteen  days!  If  a  concession  is  not  granted  I 
shall  be  greatly  surprised  ...  If  you  do  me  the 
immense  kindness  of  writing  to  me,  make  no  allusion 
to  this  P.S.  nor  the  verses,  and  do  not  tell  any  one 
that  you  have  heard  from  me.  This  is  the  last 
poem  of  which  I  spoke." 

Here  the  verses  followed,  and  at  the  end  of  the 
P.  S.  he  announced  : 

"  I  have  absolutely  experienced  it  all,  I  assure 
you.  It  would  be  necessary  to  undergo  all  I  have 
undergone  for  the  last  three  years :  humiliations, 
scorn,  insults,  in  order  to  realise  the  admirable 
consolation,  reason,  and  logic  there  is  in  this  religion, 
so  terrible  and  yet  so  sweet.  Terrible,  yes,  but 
man  is  so  evil,  has  fallen  so  low  ...  I  say  nothing 
of  the  historical,  scientific,  and  other  proofs  which 
are  dazzling  when  one  has  the  immense  happiness 
of  being  out  of  this  abominable,  effete,  old,  foolish, 
proud,  cursed  society  of  ours. 

"  Have  I  told  you  that  I  am  working  hard  at 
English?  I  have  read  Shakespeare  without  a 
translation,  and  Latin,  the  Bible,  and  lastly  Spanish 
for  use  later.  What  a  language!  what  things  to 
read!  Therefore  good-bye  for  a  very  little  while, 
for  I  must  return  to  France  to  prepare  for  the 
law-suit  which  arises  out  of  no  desire  of  mine. 
But  as  on  the  whole  I  am  less  stupid  than  father 
Maute,  as  certainly  I  am  more  honest,  ...  he 


ROMANCES  SANS  PAROLES  335 

only  deals  in  lies,  inventions,  and  slanders,  I  fear 
nothing  from  a  good  big  publicity,  which,  neverthe- 
less, I  would  prefer  not  to  provoke.  Besides  I  am 
expecting  schemes  and  snares.  ...  It  is  clear 
they  will  try  all  sorts  of  things  when  I  am  free, 
but  at  each  caress  or  threat  I  shall  cry  :  '  Down 
with  your  paws ! '  One  day  my  wife  may  come  to 
repentance  ....  in  such  case  she  will  find  com- 
plete forgetfulness,  pardon,  happiness,  what  am  I 
saying?  But  you  will  understand.  If  you  could 
but  know  how  detached  I  am  from  everything  out- 
side prayer  and  meditation." 

From  this  letter  it  may  be  seen  that  religion 
was  gradually  transforming  Verlaine  ;  moreover,  he 
was  ill,  and  had  but  a  vague  hope  of  ever  resuming 
his  married  life.  His  troubles  grew  upon  him.  He 
anxiously  awaited  a  remission  of  part  of  his  sentence, 
but  it  never  came.  Official  silence  was  the  only 
response  to  all  appeals  on  the  part  of  his  family  and 
friends.  He  was  like  one  shipwrecked  in  the  dark- 
ness, who  for  the  moment  inspirited  by  a  deceptive 
gleam  of  light,  when  once  more  plunged  in  impene- 
trable gloom,  incapable  of  further  effort,  abandons 
himself  meekly  to  unconsciousness  and  oblivion. 

Yet  the  prison  was  to  a  certain  extent  for 
him  an  inspiring,  creative  force  —  a  very  rare 
phenomenon.  In  the  case  of  the  majority  of 
writers,  philosophers,  and  poets  who  have  under- 
gone a  long  term  of  imprisonment,  the  imagination 
dries  up  and  the  impulse  to  create  becomes  sterile. 
That  the  air  of  the  prison  is  poisonous  to  flowers 
of  thought  many  examples  prove,  but  the  author  of 
Sagesse  was  an  exception.  Religion  did  not  occupy 
all  his  thoughts  and  verse.  He  had  fits  of  lyrical 


336  PAUL   VERLAINE 

eroticism  of  which  his  later  works  bear  traces.  In 
his  penitentiary  solitude,  between  reading  Gaume's 
Catechism  and  writing  a  poetic  invocation  to  prayer  or 
a  hymn  to  the  Virgin,  Verlaine  composed  love  poems 
of  an  impassioned  and  not  very  edifying  character. 

It  was  in  prison,  recalling  the  discourses  of 
Arthur  Rimbaud  and  his  peculiar  ideas  with  regard 
to  metre,  that  he  thought  out  lyrical  combina- 
tions, in  which  a  new  music  of  verse  played  an 
important  part,  not  only  accompanying  the  idea,  but 
evoking  feeling,  recollection,  association,  just  as  a 
perfume  to  the  refined  senses  of  certain  beings 
calls  up  actual  visions,  distinct  images,  beings,  and 
things  almost  tangible.  The  admiration  he  had 
long  felt  for  Baudelaire  had  part  in  the  new 
conception.  The  title,  Romances  sans  Paroles,  deter- 
mined upon  long  after  the  varied  poems  which 
make  up  this  interesting  collection  were  composed, 
although  apparently  suggested  by  Mendelssohn,  was 
a  summing-up,  a  synthesis,  of  this  new  theory  of 
verse.  With  the  misfortunes  that  darkened  his 
life  came,  as  is  the  case  with  every  poet,  the 
desire  to  unburden  his  woe,  to  perpetuate  it  in 
his  work.  Art  was  a  powerful  anesthetic.  He 
treated  himself  to  a  course  of  personal  impassioned 
verse.  He  renounced  the  poetry  of  his  early  years. 
The  Poemes  Saturniens  and  the  F£tes  galantes 
were  like  flowers  cultivated  scientifically  in  the 
classic  parterres,  French  or  exotic,  of  the  Parnasse, 
while  the  Romances  sans  Paroles,  Sagesse,  and 
the  other  poems  alluded  to  in  his  letters  from 
the  prison  of  Brussels  and  Mons,  were  fruits  of 
bitterness,  watered  by  tears,  ripened  in  gloom, 
the  untended  wild  flowers  of  solitude,  like  those 


EOMANCES  SANS  PAEOLES  337 

plants  of  phosphorescent  gleam  and  extraordinarily 
contorted,  shapes,  their  interiors  filled  with  ashes, 
which  grow  in  dense  forests  wherein  no  sun  nor 
joyous  life  ever  penetrates. 

All  appeals  for  a  reduction  of  his  sentence  were 
put  aside,  probably  without  examination.  The 
Belgians  were  merciless.  We  had  pointed  out 
that  the  offence,  in  accordance  with  the  law,  merited 
at  most  a  sentence  of  a  few  days'  imprisonment, 
and  the  Belgian  Government  would  have  earned 
respect  by  rectifying  the  error  of  its  judges,  and 
modifying  the  excessive  penalty.  It  must  be 
remembered,  however,  that  no  such  suggestion 
came  from  France.  Apart  from  Bl^mont  and 
myself,  none  of  Verlaine's  old  friends  bestirred 
themselves  on  his  behalf;  and  he  had  three  who 
were  already  very  influential  at  this  period  ;  I  will 
not  name  them.  Almost  all  the  literary  lights, 
whose  friendship  was  under  eclipse,  have  since 
shone  upon  Verlaine's  glory,  and  claimed  the  honour 
of  projecting  their  lights  upon  his  tomb. 

So,  like  the  worst  of  criminals,  he  worked  out 
the  whole  of  his  sentence.  He  did  not  come  out 
of  his  official  tomb  until  the  i6th  January  1875. 

It  may  be  asserted  that  the  imprisonment, 
which  modified  Verlaine's  poetical  temperament, 
also  changed  his  character,  placed  him,  as  it  were, 
outside  society,  and  predisposed  him  to  the  excesses 
and  eccentricities  of  every  kind  which  troubled  his 
existence  and  his  talent  during  the  third  phase  of 
his  glorious  and  miserable  life. 

Often  in  prison  are  unfortunately  contracted 
physical  infirmities  which  cause  suffering,  and 
mortal  maladies  which  cause  death. 


CHAPTER   XIII 

VERLAINE     A     SCHOOLMASTER     IN      ENGLAND     AND     IN 
FRANCE — LUCIEN    L^TINOIS VERLAINE    A    FARMER 

(1875-1881) 

MADAME  VERLAINE  awaited  her  son  at  the  gate 
of  the  prison.  What  effusions !  What  joy  to  hold 
her  dear  Paul  once  more  to  her  heart !  It  was 
eighteen  months  since  she  had  seen  him  except 
at  a  distance,  under  the  eye  of  an  official,  and 
behind  a  grating.  He  was  conducted  to  the 
frontier  by  a  police  escort,  being  the  object  of  a 
special  decree  of  expulsion.  His  mother,  who 
made  the  journey  third-class  in  the  same  train 
as  far  as  the  frontier,  amidst  light-hearted  people, 
travelling  under  the  same  conditions  as  the  poet, 
hastened,  when  his  guard  had  left  him,  to  take 
him  for  rest  and  the  re-establishment  of  his  moral 
and  physical  health  to  her  relations  at  Arras, 
Fampoux,  and  from  there  to  the  Ardennes.  Very 
happily  he  went  with  her.  A  new  life  opened 
before  him  ;  was  his  heart  new  too  ?  He  wrote 
to  me  from  Fampoux  some  days  after  he  left 
Mons. 

"FAMPOUX,  z^th January,  chez  M.  Julien  Dehee, 
near  Arras. 

11 1  reply  a  little  late,  my  dear  Edmund,  to  your 
kind   letter   of  3ist    December   last,    but   the   un- 

338 


VERLAINE   A  SCHOOLMASTER  339 

certainty  of  the  date  of  my  departure,  the  ennui 
of  writing  per  angusta,  and  also  the  desire  to 
surprise  you  with  a  sudden  visit  one  morning — 
a  thing  much  more  amusing  than  a  letter — has 
delayed  me  until  now.  I  and  my  mother  have 
been  here  since  the  i6th,  staying  with  very  kind 
relations.  I  cannot  say  if  I  shall  return  to  Paris 
shortly.  They  are  all  so  kind  here,  and  it  is 
good  to  breathe  the  air  of  the  country  even  in 
a  north  wind,  and  the  great  town  does  not  tempt 
me  yet.  At  the  same  time,  I  trust  it  will  not 
be  long  before  we  meet.  .  .  .  We  will  talk  over 
my  plans.  You  will  probably  find  me  very  much 
changed ;  my  health  is  rapidly  improving.  I 
hope  you  and  yours  are  well.  You  are  right 
in  thinking  one  of  my  first  visits  will  be  to  you, 
my  dear  friend.  ..." 

I  saw  Verlaine  only  in  passing,  as  it  were,  one 
February  afternoon,  when  we  plucked  a  chaplet 
of  recollections.  He  set  out  again  for  the  north 
and  the  Ardennes,  to  pay  a  visit  to  some  relations 
there,  but  rumours  of  his  troubles  had  got  about 
and  he  received  scant  welcome.  Still  under  the 
influence  of  the  impressions  received  in  prison, 
and  his  conversation  with  the  chaplain,  he  reflected 
with  gravity  upon  his  situation.  He  was  in  haste 
to  quit  the  unfriendly  hearth  at  which  he  found 
himself.  What  should  he  do  ?  There  was  one 
refuge  always  open  to  receive  him,  one  heart 
always  warm  towards  him,  at  the  Batignolles, 
where  his  mother  awaited  him.  It  would  be 
pleasant  to  live  with  her,  but  her  income  was 
very  small.  Should  he  compass  her  ruin  by  forcing 
her  to  break  in  upon  her  capital  ?  No,  indeed ! 
It  was,  therefore,  necessary  to  plan  out  a  life 


340  PAUL   VERLAINE 

apart,  but  where,  and  how  ?  The  idea  of  farming 
occurred  to  him,  later  to  be  put  into  practice. 
At  present,  although  he  was  greatly  disposed 
towards  country  life,  he  put  this  suggestion  from 
him ;  probably  he  had  not  the  necessary  capital 
at  his  disposal  to  buy  or  rent  a  farm,  and  he  was, 
moreover,  too  much  of  a  novice  to  embark  on 
such  an  enterprise  alone.  If  one  of  his  cousins, 
a  Dehee  or  Dujardin,  would  have  gone  into  it 
with  him,  he  would  certainly  have  turned 
agriculturist,  but  the  lack  of  enthusiasm  which 
greeted  the  announcement  of  his  intention  both  in 
Artois  and  the  Ardennes,  caused  him  to  renounce 
the  idea,  only,  as  will  be  seen  later,  for  a  time. 

Should  he  turn  towards  literature  ?  But  what 
branch  of  literature  ?  He  knew  from  me  and 
many  others  the  vicissitudes  of  journalism,  how 
difficult  it  was  to  obtain  definite  employ.  He 
felt  no  aptitude  for  it ;  he  could  not  and  would 
not  turn  out  paying  copy,  topical  paragraphs, 
reviews,  serials.  He  felt  indisposed  for  novels  or 
critical  studies  such  as  a  publisher  might  accept. 
The  drama  he  knew  to  be  practically  inaccessible. 
As  to  poetry,  his  own  particular  art,  as  a  matter 
of  fact,  an  income  was  necessary  for  its  exercise. 
The  four  volumes  already  published,  had  they 
not  been  issued  at  his  own  expense?  He  could 
not  count  upon  the  manuscript  of  Sagesse,  which 
he  had  brought  with  him  from  prison  nearly 
completed,  as  an  instrument  of  fortune  or  even 
as  a  momentary  resource.  And  then  literature 
meant  Paris ;  he  did  not  want  to  live  in  that 
great  town.  He  had  spoken  to  me  very  frankly 
on  the  matter  at  our  brief  interview.  He  felt 


VERLAINE   A   SCHOOLMASTER  341 

as  if  he  had  lost  his  place — become  a  stranger 
there.  Several  of  his  letters  written  in  prison 
bore  witness  to  his  annoyance  at  the  calumnies 
spread  about  him.  He  knew  that  the  old  comrades 
whom  he  met  would  pretend  to  know  nothing  of 
them,  but  he  could  not  rely  upon  support  and 
esteem  in  our  old  Parnassian  circle.  He  wanted 
oblivion,  silence,  effacement,  and  that  was  not  the 
way  to  get  on  in  the  literary  world. 

Moreover,  he  felt  the  necessity  of  beginning  a 
new  life  which  would  enable  him  to  forget  the  old 
one.  He  must  prove  to  every  one,  and  especially 
his  mother,  in  regard  to  whom  he  felt  some  little 
shame,  which  accentuated  his  desire  to  earn  his 
own  living,  that  he  had  become  another  man. 
Work,  and  a  regular,  punctual,  middle  -  class, 
perhaps  one  day  even  family  life,  would  furnish 
indisputable  proof.  He  desired  that  there  should 
be  no  shadow  of  doubt  as  to  his  firm  resolution. 
To  leave  Paris  was  the  first  step ;  a  stay  there 
was  perilous.  He  must  not  fall  back  into  his  old 
disorderly  ways.  He  had  made,  as  it  were,  a  vow 
to  get  drunk  no  more.  Would  he  give  the  lie  to 
the  sceptical  proverb  regarding  the  duration  of  such 
promises.  In  Paris,  where  temptation  abounded, 
he  could  not  guarantee  an  affirmative.  He  doubted 
his  force  of  resistance  among  such  surroundings. 
Idleness  and  aimlessness  abandoned  for  ever,  dis- 
sipations and  the  wine-shop  avoided  even  by  flight, 
and  regular  honest  work,  without  rest  or  pleasure, 
such  things  would  prove  to  his  mother,  to  old 
friends,  to  every  one — who  knows  ?  perhaps  even  to 
Her,  towards  whom  his  thoughts  always  insensibly 
turned — the  sincerity  of  his  repentance  and  the 


342  PAUL  VERLAINE 

firmness  of  his  new  vocation.  Therefore  an  exist- 
ence apart,  outside  Paris  as  much  as  possible,  and 
work  bringing  in  sufficient  for  a  livelihood,  this  was 
the  problem  to  be  solved.  Thus  he  put  it  to  him- 
self, and  he  found  the  solution  with  a  decision  of 
which  he  very  rarely  gave  an  example. 

The  difficulty  was  complicated  thus :  he  desired 
to  obtain  employment,  and  at  the  same  time  to 
be  out  of  reach  of  the  temptation  of  the  wine-shop 
and  the  street.  This  condition  suddenly  inspired 
him.  He  examined  his  means  of  work.  All  that 
he  had  at  his  disposal  for  the  purpose  of  gaining  his 
bread,  besides  his  diploma  of  Bachelier-es-Lettres, 
was  a  little  Latin,  furbished  up  in  prison,  and  an 
acquaintance,  already  rather  extended,  with  the 
English  language. 

He  resolved  to  make  use  of  it ;  he  felt  capable 
of  giving  lessons,  and  realised  that  it  would  have 
to  be  in  a  school.  He  did  not  fear  lack  of  liberty ; 
he  had  grown  accustomed  to  that.  He,  therefore, 
sought  for  an  establishment  where  he  could  be 
lodged,  fed,  and  kept ;  and  where  he  would  teach 
what  he  knew — French,  Latin,  and  English.  He 
had  heard  of  boarding-schools  in  England,  and 
thither  he  turned  his  eyes. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  strait  were  to  be  found 
forgetfulness,  tranquillity,  peaceful  labour,  and  an 
honourable  livelihood.  He  had  acquired  some 
practical  ideas  during  his  experience  of  English  life. 
He  knew  what  an  important  part  the  advertise- 
ment plays  in  every  business  matter  with  our 
neighbours,  and  did  not  hesitate  to  address  to  two 
or  three  newspapers  through  an  agent  he  knew, 
M.  E.  Holland,  Advertising  Office,  Great  Wind- 


VERLAINE  A  SCHOOLMASTER  343 

mill  Street,  one  sufficiently  eloquent  offering  lessons 
in  French  and  literature  in  exchange  for  board 
and  lodging.  It  was  necessary  to  perfect  himself 
in  the  English  language — hence  the  modesty  of  his 
demands.  He  had  not  to  wait  long  for  a  response, 
and  the  following  letter,  dated  loth  April,  informed 
me  of  his  residence  in  England,  and  new  position. 

"  STICKNEY. 

"  Here  I  am  a  professor  ...  in  an  English 
village.  There  is  no  one  around  me  who  can 
speak  a  word  of  French.  ...  I  teach  French, 
Latin  .  .  .  and  drawing.  I  am  sufficiently  accom- 
plished for  these  three  labours.  And  I  teach  in 
English  .  .  .  what  English!  but  during  the  eight 
days  I  have  been  here  I  have  improved. 

"  Family  life  :  Mr  Andrews  is  a  young  man  who 
reads  French  as  I  read  English,  but  who  does  not 
speak  it  ...  charming,  cordial,  very  well  informed. 
My  pupils  are  very  well  brought  up  children,  who 
teach  me  English  while  I  teach  them  French,  which 
is  exactly  what  I  want.  How  long  shall  I  remain 
here  ?  Three  or  six  months,  according  to  my 
progress  in  speaking  and  understanding.  Then  I 
shall  seriously  set  about  earning  my  living  in  this 
country,  where  my  mother,  I  hope,  will  join  me. 

"  I  have  no  distractions  and  seek  none.  Much 
reading,  walks  with  the  pupils  (not  in  rank  and 
file,  nothing  of  that  sort  here)  across  magnificent 
meadows  full  of  sheep,  etc.  It  is  astonishing  how 
well  I  have  become  morally  and  physically  in  these 
eight  days. 

"I  sowed  on  my  journey  to  London  the  seeds 
of  relations  which  will  be  useful  to  me  one  day. 
Nothing  of  the  refugees,  of  course.  .  .  .  Lissagaray, 
I  am  told,  is  in  hiding  ;  Vermersch  is  in  Switzerland  ; 
Andrieu  has  got  his  own  place.  That  is  all. 


344  PAUL  VERLAINE 

"You  will  send  me  some  news.  Some  fresh 
gossip  about  my  'mysterious  departure'  must  be 
circulating  in  the  Rue  Fontaine,  Montmartre  (where 
his  wife's  family  was).  If  they  could  see  me  in  my 
new  incarnation  I  daresay  they  would  be  astonished. 

"  More  details  shortly  ;  drawings,  verses,  etc.  .  .  . 
For  the  moment  a  recommendation  :  do  not  divulge 
my  address  until  instructed  ;  reasons  very  serious. 
You  will  thank  Dierx  for  his  volumes.  I  await 
impatiently  a  long  and  substantial  letter  from  you. 

"  My  address  is :  M.  P.  Verlaine,  at  M.  W. 
Andrews,  Stickney  Grammar  School,  Boston, 
Lincolnshire. 

"  My  village  is  Stickney,  two  or  three  miles  from 
Boston;  but  the  address  is  as  above.  Silince" 

Thus  he  lived  peacefully  employed  in  regular 
work  in  the  homely  boarding-school.  He  wrote 
to  me  comparatively  little  during  his  time  there. 
More  than  once  he  declared  himself  completely 
absorbed  in  his  occupations.  He  allowed  his  muse 
to  slumber.  They  were  months  of  contemplation 
and  spiritual  and  material  abstinence.  He  remained 
a  year  and  a  half  with  M.  Andrews. 

Ennui  and  the  desire  to  see  his  mother  again 
caused  him  to  leave  the  Stickney  establishment. 
He  wrote  to  his  mother,  who  came  to  join  him  at 
Arras.  In  that  cold  and  gloomy  garrison  town  he 
led  a  quiet,  and,  judging  from  the  following  letter, 
very  regular  life,  busy  with  the  revision  of  the  manu- 
script of  Sagesse,  with  an  idea  of  speedy  publication  ; 
it  was  not  issued,  however,  until  1880. 

"  ARRAS,  2nd  August  1876. 

"  I  write  to  recall  to  you  your  promise,  and  am 
counting  the  days  until  the  arrival  in  my  solitude  of 


VERLAINE   A  SCHOOLMASTER  345 

the  first  part  of  the  Chien  du  Commissaire  (a  novel 
by  E.  Lepelletier). 

"  You  will  accompany  it  with  a  very  long  letter 
with  plenty  of  details  about  everything,  literature,  etc. 

"  Here,  I  live  more  and  more  like  a  hermit.  I 
have  even  renounced  the  Caf£  Sans-Peur,  or  only  go 
there  on  Saturday  afternoons  to  see  the  pictures  in 
the  illustrated  papers.  The  rest  of  the  week  the 
Figaro  bought  at  a  kiosk — for  we  have  had  a  kiosk 
here  for  some  time — suffices  for  the  requirements 
of  my  present  existence.  I  versify  to  death,  and 
occupy  myself  greatly  with  English.  I  send  you 
two  fragments  of  my  book  Sagesse,  which  will 
be  ready  in  October,  when  I  return  to  Paris.  Be 
indulgent  to  these  productions,  and,  if,  for  yourself, 
you  have  something  in  your  portfolio  do  not  forget 
to  communicate  it. 

"  2,  IMPASSE  D'ELBRONNE,  ARRAS. 

"  Maman  joins  with  me  in  compliments  to  you 
an. 

He  returned  to  England  and  settled  at  Boston, 
near  Stickney,  intending  to  live  by  giving  private 
lessons.  But  whether  from  lack  of  pupils  or  intro- 
ductions he  did  not  succeed,  and  sought  for  another 
school  to  which  to  attach  himself.  He  was  soon 
entered  as  a  professor  of  French  in  an  establish- 
ment directed  by  M.  Remington  at  Bournemouth. 

Several  of  the  poems  in  Sagesse  were  written  at 
Bournemouth,  in  particular  those  numbered  XIII. 
and  XV.  in  the  complete  works  :  L  Eclaboussement 
des  Haies  which  in  his  first  MS.  Verlaine  had 
entitled  Pay  sage  en  Lincolnshire  and  La  Mer  est 
plus  Belle,  designated  by  the  title  La  Mer  de 
Bournemouth. 

In  a  letter  dated  from  Bournemouth  and  con- 


346  PAUL  VERLAXNE 

taining  these  two  poems  he  spoke  of  his  project  of 
returning  to  France  soon. 

"1th  September  1877. 

"  I  have  received  the  first  part  of  this  Chien, 
read  it  with  great  pleasure,  and  only  await  the 
remainder  to  devour  it  open-mouthed.  I  will  make 
some  trifling  observations  with  regard  to  it  viva  voce. 

"  I  intend  to  return  to  Paris  shortly,  as  it  is 
the  time  when  appointments  are  to  be  obtained  in 
schools.  One  of  my  first  visits  will  be  to  the 
Rue  Coq-He"ron  (my  office),  to  the  printing-house 
Dubuisson  (afterwards  Bougival). 

"  I  would  ask  you  to  be  on  the  alert  for  any 
opening  for  me.  If  you  see  Herbault  (our  old 
professor)  explain  to  him  the  case  of  his  ex-pupil. 
Do  all  you  can. 

"  I  have  in  my  pocket  two  splendid  English 
certificates,  signed  by  the  local  authorities,  and 
confirmed  at  the  French  Consulate  in  London. 
You  see  I  have  turned  to  advantage  your  excellent 
advice  of  two  months  ago. 

"  I  have  masses  of  verse.  A  volume  very  nearly 
finished.  Try  to  unearth  me  a  publisher  not  too 
exacting.  You  shall  see  it  soon.  I  enclose  a  little 
specimen.  .  .  ." 

After  a  stay  in  Paris,  where  he  remained  in 
retirement,  avoiding  rather  than  seeking  his  old 
companions,  he  found,  through  his  friend  Ernest 
Delahaye,  professor  in  an  ecclesiastical  college  at 
Rethel,  an  appointment  which  he  accepted.  He 
determined  rather  abruptly  on  the  change,  and 
wrote  to  me  about  it  in  the  following  letter : 

"RETHEL,   \^th  November  1878. 

"You  will  have  understood  that  I  did  not  take 
leave  of  you  nor  write  to  you  during  the  last  six 


IN  ENGLAND  AND  IN  FRANCE  347 

weeks,  because  it  was  an  absolute  impossibility.  I 
was  counting  on  at  least  another  week  of  leisure 
in  Paris,  and  prepared  to  give  myself  the  pleasure 
of  asking  you  for  a  dejeuner  in  your  castle  at 
Bougival,  when  a  letter  from  the  head  of  the  college 
came,  instructing  me  to  set  out  by  the  first  train 
on  the  following  day  at  latest ;  so  I  had  to  re- 
organise my  plans,  and  put  aside  all  correspondence 
likely  to  be  lengthy. 

"  To-day  I  have  a  little  time  to  breathe,  and  I 
take  the  opportunity  of  sending  you  and  yours  my 
cordial  greetings.  I  am  a  professor  of  literature, 
history,  geography,  and  English  here — all  agreeable 
and  distracting  subjects.  The  system  is  excellent. 
Room  to  myself.  No  underhand  surveillance ; 
nothing  which  recalls  the  university  'boxes/  lycees, 
municipal  colleges,  or  pensions.  The  majority  of 
the  professors — Latin,  Greek,  and  Mathematical — 
are  ecclesiastics,  and  I  am  naturally  on  the  best 
terms  with  these  gentlemen,  who  are  cordial,  simple 
people,  of  a  kindly  gaiety,  and,  without  animosity, 
or  humbug.  In  short,  it  is  a  sort  of  haven  for  me, 
where  I  have  peace,  calm,  and  liberty  to  think 
and  act  as  I  like  —  inestimable  benefit.  Salary 
reasonable. 

1  'Of  politics  I  take  no  heed.  I  have  abandoned 
myself  entirely  to  literature,  not  paying — alas! — 
(and  yet !)  except  in  personal  satisfaction.  I  have 
given  a  name  to  the  verse  of  which  I  will  send 
you  a  formidable  slice,  so  that  you  may  taste  this 
*  delicate '  feast. 

"  The  town  is  insignificant.  .  .  . 

"  If,  sometime,  as  an  influential  publicist  you 
can  procure  La  Tentation  de  Saint  Antoine  by 
Flaubert,  a  book  which,  it  appears,  treats  the 
subject  intelligently,  send  it  to  me,  if  you  please, 
as  soon  as  possible. 

"  Write  to  me,    College   Notre  -  Dame,    Rethel 


348  PAUL  VERLAINE 

(Ardennes),  and  do  not  give  my  address  to  any 
one.  My  family,  M.  Istace,  and  Nouveau  are  the 
only  people  in  Paris  who  know  my  present 
Th'ebaide  ..." 

Verlaine  was,  doubtless,  a  rather  unusual  pro- 
fessor, and  his  lessons  were  certainly  stamped  by 
an  originality  and  depth  not  to  be  found  in  those 
of  either  his  predecessors  or  successors.  It  would 
be  matter  for  astonishment  if  something  from  his 
teaching  did  not  remain  with  his  various  pupils 
at  Stickney,  Bournemouth,  and,  more  particularly, 
Rethel. 

It  is  true  he  was  not  very  strong  in  Latin  and 
other  University  subjects,  but  he  had  a  solid  basis 
of  classical  knowledge.  He  knew  the  Latin  authors 
well,  had  ideas  about  Greek  drama,  and  was 
familiar  with  our  great  writers  of  the  seventeenth 
century.  He  lacked,  perhaps,  education  in  history, 
and  I  suspect  he  obtained  his  ideas  with  regard  to 
it  from  Barbey  d'Aurevilly's  volume  on  historians. 

But  history  and  mathematics  apart,  for  he 
knew  nothing  of  figures  nor  algebraical  signs, 
Verlaine  may  be  considered  as  having  fulfilled, 
not  only  conscientiously,  but  competently,  his  pro- 
fessional duties.  At  Rethel  he  had  the  two 
specialities  of  French  literature,  in  which  his 
knowledge  was  indisputable,  and  the  English 
language.  He  knew  English  well,  although  his 
pronunciation  was  defective ;  however,  his  pupils 
had  to  be  content  with  it.  Mallarme*,  who  was 
also  a  professor  of  English,  but  in  a  Paris  lycde, 
joked  his  colleague  about  it  afterwards. 

Keeping  a  watch  over  himself,  and  affecting 
a  sedate  demeanour  without  being  hypocritical, 


IN  ENGLAND  AND  IN  FRANCE  349 

Verlaine  rapidly  acquired  the  esteem  of  the 
college  ecclesiastics.  The  head  and  the  professor 
of  literature,  Eugene  Royer,  found  him  rather  too 
reserved ;  the  masters  among  themselves  casting 
aside  their  professional  stiffness.  The  professor  of 
rhetoric,  named  Dogny,  tried  to  get  to  know  his 
uncommunicative  colleague,  a  debatable,  linguistic 
point  being  the  occasion  of  his  attempt.  Verlaine, 
on  whom  at  bottom  his  aloofness  weighed  heavily, 
asked  nothing  better  than  to  respond  to  those 
who  appeared  desirous  of  being  friendly,  and  from 
that  time  he  lived  on  a  footing  of  very  agreeable 
intimacy  with  the  other  members  of  the  staff,  and 
always  retained  a  most  happy  recollection  of  his 
stay  in  this  pious  and  learned  house  where  they 
knew  nothing  of  his  past. 

He  was  silent  in  regard  to  his  antecedents. 
It  was  supposed  from  what  he  let  fall  concerning 
his  travels  and  the  literary  culture  of  which,  in 
spite  of  himself,  he  gave  serious  proof,  that  he 
had  occupied  a  good  position,  and,  owing  to  a 
reverse  of  fortune,  was  obliged  to  resort  to  teach- 
ing. No  one  suspected  that  the  college,  so  like 
a  convent,  was  harbouring  one  of  the  greatest 
poets  of  the  age,  who  had,  moreover,  been 
guilty  of  sometimes  excessive  extravagances.  His 
punctuality  in  class  and  chapel,  the  grave  manner 
in  which  he  gave  his  lessons,  his  edifying 
demeanour,  and  regularity  in  religious  observances, 
left  no  room  for  recognising  the  Verlaine  proceed- 
ing from  Villon.  In  spite  of  the  pious  sentiments 
of  which  he  gave  daily  examples,  not  one  of  the 
simple  priests  suspected  in  him  the  author  of 
magnificent  hymns,  the  only  modern  religious  poet. 


350  PAUL   VERLAINE 

In  several  letters  at  this  period  Verlaine  sang 
the  praises  of  his  colleagues,  and  of  the  charm 
and  peace  of  this  almost  conventual  retreat.  He 
tasted  a  novel  and  secret  enjoyment :  that 
of  being  ignored,  which  is  a  joy  of  subtle 
flavour,  and  only  accorded  to  a  small  number  of 
beings. 

In  his  solitary  chamber,  cell-like  in  appearance, 
Verlaine  experienced  an  intense,  quasi  -  perverse 
pleasure  in  correcting  and  copying  out  verses  by 
turns  mournful,  sentimental,  passionate,  religious, 
and  amorous,  hiding  them  away  like  some  secret 
sin.  With  an  ironical  and  proud  satisfaction  he 
said  to  himself:  "  No  eye  sees  me  open  my 
mysterious  poems,  no  ear  hears  the  silent  chant 
of  my  rhythms,  and  no  one  among  all  the  good 
people  in  this  college  imagine  that  I  am  Verlaine, 
Paul  Verlaine,  the  saturnine  poet,  the  precious 
poet  of  the  Fetes  galantes,  the  poet,  sensitive, 
suffering,  fantastic,  and  mocking  of  the  Romances 
sans  Paroles,  and  soon  to  be  the  great  Christian 
poet  of  Sagesse" 

Later  the  good  priests  learned,  not  without 
naive  emotion,  what  an  extraordinary  guest  they 
had  harboured  ;  but  in  spite  of  the  explanation  given 
they  did  not  know  all  about  the  personage  they 
had  seen  modestly  sitting  in  their  refectory,  joining 
in  their  simple  conversations,  interesting  himself  in 
the  little  matters  of  their  everyday  life,  kneeling 
with  them  in  chapel,  and  like  them,  correcting  the 
pupils'  exercises.  The  professor  of  rhetoric  likened 
him  to  Apollo  in  the  house  of  Admetus.  They  were 
neither  scandalised  nor  annoyed.  The  religious 
merits  of  the  poet  were  skilfully  emphasised,  and 


IN  ENGLAND  AND  IN  FRANCE  351 

to  the  head,  harassed  with  the  difficulties  of  the 
time  and  the  hostility  of  legislators,  were  quoted 
the  indignant  lines  on  the  exiled  priests:  "Vous 
reviendrez  bientdt  les  bras  pleins  de  pardons,  vous 
reviendrez,  vieillards  exquis.  .  .  ."  It  was  said  that 
a  master  so  highly  esteemed  in  the  thinking  world 
would  do  honour  to  the  house  in  which  he  had 
taught,  and  silence  was  maintained  as  to  those  un- 
fortunate rumours  which  accompanied  the  poet's 
fame.  The  pupils  participated  in  this  feeling.  In 
1897  the  °ld  boys  of  the  college  of  Notre  Dame 
organised  a  banquet  in  Paris  in  honour  of  their 
illustrious  professor.  On  the  mdnu  was  a  bust  of 
the  poet  surrounded  by  Fame,  with  the  town 
of  Rethel  and  its  college  detached  in  a  nimbus 
of  glory,  and  at  the  conclusion  of  the  banquet  a 
eulogy  on  Verlaine  was  delivered  by  one  of  the 
organisers,  M.  Jean  Bourguignon  of  the  Revue 
dArdenne  et  d Argonne. 

Verlaine  rather  abruptly  cast  off  the  frock-coat 
of  the  professor,  leaving  the  college  and  the  profes- 
sorial chair  for  the  farm  and  the  plough,  to  become 
an  agriculturist.  This  unexpected  determination, 
like  everything  else,  had  its  explanation ;  in  the 
first  place,  he  had  a  desire  which  became  much 
more  persistent — it  manifested  itself  very  strongly 
some  years  later,  when  at  his  urgent  request  I 
endeavoured  to  obtain  his  reinstatement  in  the 
Government  offices  —  of  re-entering  the  ranks  of 
society,  and  obtaining  regular  employment  at  a 
fixed  salary,  poetry  to  be  regarded  as  a  relaxation 
and  consolation  in  times  of  trouble.  Secondly,  he 
had  always  had  a  love  for  the  soil,  for  country 
things  and  rustic  life.  He  came  of  a  family  who 


352  PAUL   VERLAINE 

lived  on  the  land,  and  was  tempted  to  return  to 
the  surroundings  so  congenial  to  them. 

What  decided  him,  perhaps,  was  one  of  his 
impulses — strange,  powerful,  and  much  misunder- 
stood— towards  friendship.  I  have  already  alluded 
to  the  strength  of  the  attachments  he  conceived 
for  various  comrades  :  one  of  his  Dujardin  cousins, 
Lucien  Viotti,  Arthur  Rimbaud.  Science  and  history 
have  determined  the  purely  platonic  character  of 
such  feelings.  The  most  celebrated  philosophers 
of  antiquity  displayed  an  affection,  passing  the 
bounds  of  ordinary  friendship,  for  some  of  their 
disciples.  In  the  case  of  Socrates,  it  had  the  effect 
of  propagating  his  teachings,  attaching  hearts,  and 
dominating  minds ;  a  psychic  communion  being 
established  between  master  and  disciple.  Verlaine, 
who  especially  in  his  latter  years,  had  the  innocent 
whim,  in  certain  hours  of  expansion,  of  treating 
his  young  friends,  Maurice  du  Plessys,  Anatole 
Baju,  Cazals,  not  in  secret,  but  quite  openly  in  the 
cafe",  in  paternal  fashion,  did  not  escape  the  suspicion 
of  the  evil-minded  ;  but  he  simply  shrugged  his 
shoulders  and  emptied  his  glass  of  absinthe  in  com- 
pany with  the  women  of  his  choice,  ill  -  favoured 
enough,  but  complaisant  and  gay :  Esthers,  Phil- 
omnenes,  and  Eugenics. 

Verlaine's  new  friendship  was  for  one  of  his 
pupils,  Lucien  L^tinois,  the  son  of  a  farmer,  born 
at  Coulommes,  in  the  Ardennes,  on  27th  February 
1860;  a  tall,  pale,  slim,  awkward  youth,  with  a 
melancholy  and  simple  air ;  a  rough-hewn  rustic, 
slightly  pretentious,  and  rather  sentimental ;  the 
shepherd  of  a  comic  opera.  His  father,  a  shrewd 
countryman,  had  put  him  to  college,  desirous  of 


LUCIEN  L^TINOIS  353 

making  a  gentleman,  a  clerk,  perhaps  an  official 
of  him.  Little  is  precisely  known  about  this  peasant 
scholar.  Verlaine  has  been  sparing  of  details  in 
regard  to  him  in  his  autobiographies  and  con- 
fessions in  prose  ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  he  has 
celebrated,  poetised,  idealised,  and  extolled  him  in 
verse.  Not  being  able,  like  the  Emperor  Hadrian, 
to  erect  a  mausoleum  in  stone  to  this  Ardennaise 
Antinoiis,  he  constructed  the  Amour,  a  lyrical  monu- 
ment apparently  indestructible.  He  traced  a  portrait 
of  the  young  man,  doubtless  flattering,  but  with 
a  graceful  touch.  A  distant  echo  of  the  Odes 
of  Anacreon  and  Virgil's  Eclogues  murmurs  in  the 
delicate  lines,  in  which  he  pictured  his  young  friend 
gliding  "  marvellously  "  over  the  ice.  Following  upon 
this  imaginary  description,  he  shows  us  his  comrade 
against  the  majestic  and  tranquil  background 
of  the  fields  engaged  in  wholesome  rustic  labour. 
The  young  man  was  religious,  another  motive  for 
Verlaine's  attachment  to  him. 

Poor  rudderless  boat,  he  hoped  unceasingly  to 
find  a  haven  in  religion.  It  was  not  goodwill  that 
he  lacked,  but  true  faith  and  conviction.  He  had 
read  overmuch  in  his  youth  of  Louis  Blichner,  Moles- 
chott,  Feuerbach,  and  other  scientific  materialistic 
philosophers.  He  hoped  that  this  young  and  simple 
believer  with  whom  he  disputed,  and  who  opposed 
to  his  doubts  sa  foi  de  charbonnier,  would  support 
and  lead  him  along  the  pathway  of  faith. 

Verlaine  afterwards  evoked  a  remembrance  of 
his  friend  as  a  soldier,  for  in  the  poems  devoted  to 
him  in  Amour  he  pictured  him  in  twenty  different 
characters  and  as  many  attitudes,  real  and  fictitious. 
Lucien  Le'tinois  went  through  his  military  service, 

z 


354  PAUL  VERLAINE 

brutally  cut  short  by  death,  in  an  artillery  regiment 
in  Paris.  This  recollection  haunted  Verlaine's 
saddened  spirit,  and  he  poured  out  his  grief  in 
some  exquisite  lines.  He  partly  explained  the 
affection  he  felt  for  this  young  son  of  the  fields. 
"  J'ai  la  fureur  d'aimer !  "  he  clamoured  ;  a  cry  right 
from  the  heart.  Moreover,  this  sentiment  for  a 
youth  much  younger  than  himself,  who  was  not 
in  the  same  position  and  lacked  his  artistic  educa- 
tion, was  largely  paternal.  Verlaine  found  again 
in  him  the  son  who  was  lost,  dead  to  him. 

Shortly  after  the  poet  had  left  the  house  of  his 
wife's  parents,  the  scene  of  daily  quarrels,  a  son 
was  born  to  his  wife.  The  law  gave  the  child 
into  the  charge  of  his  mother,  and  she  out  of 
her  modest  resources  provided  for  the  needs  and 
education  of  young  Georges.  When  he  attained 
adolescence  she  married  again,  and  had  other 
children,  and  desired  to  apprentice  her  son  to  some 
trade  by  which  he  could  gain  his  living.  She  there- 
fore sent  him  to  a  clockmaker's  at  Orleans ;  which 
Verlaine,  hearing  of,  approved,  even  making  some 
comments  favourable  to  the  trade  of  clockmaker. 

Georges  Verlaine  did  not  pursue  this  calling. 
He  returned  to  his  mother  in  Belgium.  He  was 
engaged  in  military  service,  and  unfortunately  ill 
in  hospital  when  his  father  died  ;  the  two  never 
met.  When  young  Georges  had  finished  his  term, 
he  came  at  once  to  me  in  Paris.  I  was  struck 
with  his  strong  resemblance,  with  greater  regularity 
of  feature  and  symmetry  of  visage,  to  his  father 
at  eighteen  years  of  age.  He  remained  with  me 
some  time  as  secretary,  and  acted  in  the  same 
capacity  to  M,  Joseph  Uzanne.  Afterwards  he 


LUCIEN  L^TINOIS  355 

became  clerk  in  a  library,  and  finally  I  obtained 
a  position  for  him  on  the  Metropolitain,  where  he 
is  still.  He  is  married,  and  I  was  his  witness.  He 
has  a  great  respect  for  his  father's  memory,  and 
having  no  desire  to  mix  himself  up  in  the  conjugal 
quarrel,  while  loving  his  mother  and  recognising 
her  care  and  sacrifices  for  him,  he  conceived  a 
profound  admiration  for  his  father's  genius,  and 
instituted  himself  with  laudable  pride  the  guardian 
of  his  father's  fame  and  works,  personally  super- 
intending the  publication  of  the  last  edition  of  the 
complete  works. 

Although  he  never  had  the  joy  of  embracing 
his  son,  nor  the  possibility  of  occupying  himself 
with  him,  Verlaine  often  thought  of  the  little  being, 
his  sole  offspring,  born  of  a  unique  and  great  love, 
who  grew  up  away  from  him,  and  perhaps  would 
never  know  him,  or  despise  him.  The  boy's  destiny 
occupied  his  thoughts.  What  an  interesting  page 
that  is  in  which,  imagining  his  son  to  be  of  an  age 
for  soldiering,  he  gives  him  advice,  exhorting  him 
to  serve  his  country,  and  endeavours  to  make  of 
him  a  good  soldier,  an  honest  man,  and  also  a  good 
Christian.  Verlaine  wrote  this  lay  sermon  in  1874, 
in  his  cell  at  Mons.  In  it  he  asked  his  son  when 
serving  under  the  flag  to  care  nothing  for  the 
opinion  of  others,  but  to  perform  the  whole  duty 
of  a  Christian,  regardless  of  the  foolish  and  the 
wicked.  He  gave  him  a  perfect  code  of  conduct. 
He  was,  alas,  experienced  in  more  than  one  of  these 
matters :  he  had  known  and  succumbed  to  the 
temptations  against  which  he  endeavoured  to  put 
the  young  conscript  of  1880  on  his  guard  :  women 
and  drink.  "  A  little  glass  of  brandy,  a  common 


356  PAUL  VERLAINE 

and  inoffensive  refreshment,  invites  to  a  second, 
which  warms  you,  and  to  a  third  which  excites  you  ; 
the  fourth  habituates  you  to  it,  and  after  that  is  the 
beginning  of  the  end,  in  what  disaster !  " 

Verlaine  went  a  little  farther  in  his  wise  counsels, 
imitating  those  Anglican  preachers,  the  teetotallers. 
In  the  same  way  he  exaggerated  when,  as  if  he 
foresaw  latter-day  conflicts,  he  advised  his  soldier 
son  not  to  serve  against  "  God  and  His  ministers," 
speaking  in  the  character  of  the  catechumen  of 
Belgian  prisons,  rather  than  in  that  of  the  son  of  an 
officer  obliged  to  submit  to  any  order  whatsoever. 
It  is  true  he  finished  his  exhortation  with  the  words  : 
"  Be  French,  though ! " 

On  several  occasions  he  evoked  the  image  of 
his  son  in  his  poems  and  in  his  prose  writings.  The 
volume  Amour  concludes  with  this  noble  apostrophe 
to  Georges  Verlaine : 

"  Voici  mon  testament : 

Grains  Dieu,  ne  hais  personne,  et  porte  bien  ton  nom, 
Qui  fut  portd  dument." 

The  exigency  of  his  affection  impelled  Verlaine, 
when  Lucien  Le"tinois  quitted  the  college,  to  follow 
him.  He  renounced  the  calm  of  collegiate  life 
for  that  of  the  country.  He  gave  in  his  resignation, 
left  Rethel,  and  installed  himself  at  Coulommes 
with  Lucien  Letinois.  The  young  man's  parents 
did  not  view  his  arrival  with  displeasure.  They 
had  all  the  rural  avidity,  and  reckoned  on  making 
something  out  of  this  town  gentleman  who  wanted 
to  turn  rustic.  Here,  then,  was  Verlaine  a  country- 
man, and  before  long  a  farmer.  There  were  two 
rustic  periods  in  the  life  of  the  poet.  The  first, 


VERLAINE  A  FARMER  357 

from  1878  to  1881,  was  comparatively  peaceful. 
Verlaine,  after  spending  some  time  with  the  parents 
of  his  friend,  reading,  smoking,  dreaming,  and 
writing  a  little,  resolved  to  become  a  regular 
agriculturist.  Le"tinois's  parents  encouraged  and 
stimulated  him.  Verlaine  persuaded  his  mother 
to  join  him.  She,  always  desirous  of  pleasing  her 
son,  fearing  for  him  the  temptations  of  the  town, 
and  not  having  much  of  an  opinion  of  the  profession 
of  lyrical  poet,  strongly  approved  his  project.  A 
farm  was  therefore  bought  at  Juniville.  The 
acquisition  was  made  in  the  name  of  Le"tinois's 
father.  Verlaine  pretended  that  there  would  be 
danger  in  buying  in  his  own  name  a  property  which 
might  be  pounced  upon  by  his  wife  claiming 
provision  and  costs  in  the  action  for  separa- 
tion. In  reality  he  had  no  such  fear,  the  costs 
of  the  action  having  already  been  paid.  Besides 
Verlaine  could  have  bought  the  property  in  his 
mother's  name.  She  herself  was  dissatisfied  with 
the  arrangement,  which  left  her  son  a  prey,  to  the 
L£tinois's. 

The  new  farmer  interested  himself  chiefly  in 
the  play  of  sunlight  among  the  leaves,  the  clearness 
of  the  morning,  and  the  splendour  of  the  sunset. 
He  has  described  in  very  beautiful  Georgic  verse 
his  labours  and  his  pleasures  in  the  Ardennes 
country.  He  was  very  desirous  of  setting  his 
hands  to  the  plough,  but  they  were  more  accustomed 
to  the  lyre.  He  lacked  experience  in  directing  a 
farm,  and  often  hindered  the  young  Letinois,  whose 
aptitude  was  greater  in  his  work.  They  talked  and 
idled.  "  Our  attempt  at  farming  had  a  sad  end," 
the  poet  confessed.  As  the  saying  goes,  they  were 


358  PAUL  VERLAINE 

eating  money,  and  the  earth,  rebellious  against 
those  she  regards  as  intruders,  did  not  yield  the 
townsman  even  the  equivalent  of  the  money 
he  lavished  on  her.  Le"tinois's  father  looked  on, 
saying  neither  "  yes "  nor  "  no,"  and  awaiting  the 
climax. 

Verlaine,  disgusted,  losing  his  head  in  the  face 
of  threats,  intimidated  by  the  reception  of  certain 
stamped  papers,  perhaps  at  bottom  tired  of  farming, 
and  desirous  of  recommencing  with  Lucien  Le"tinois 
the  wanderings  of  former  years  in  company  with 
Rimbaud,  resolved  to  leave  and  persuade  Lucien 
to  accompany  him.  One  fine  morning  the  farm 
found  itself  without  inhabitants.  Le"tinois's  father, 
in  order  to  take  care  of  the  property  which  was 
legally  his,  although  he  had  not  disbursed  a  penny 
upon  it,  installed  himself  at  Juniville.  Later  he 
sold  the  farm  to  his  own  profit,  naturally. 

On  leaving  Juniville  Verlaine  went  with  his 
young  friend  to  his  usual  goal  in  time  of  trouble — 
London — in  order  to  forget  the  disappointments  of 
farming,  and  the  gossip  of  the  village  which  had 
sprung  up  in  regard  to  their  friendship ;  but  their 
visits  could  not  be  prolonged  on  account  of  lack 
of  funds.  It  was  necessary  to  return  to  Paris,  where 
Verlaine's  mother  was.  Moreover,  Le*tinois's  father, 
having  sold  Verlaine's  farm,  had  just  established 
himself  at  14  Rue  de  Paris,  Ivry,  and  Verlaine 
and  his  mother  took  up  their  abode  in  the  Rue 
des  Parchamps,  Boulogne-sur- Seine. 

During  this  period,  between  two  essays  at  rustic 
life  (1881-1883),  Verlaine  made  the  attempt,  unsuc- 
cessful, as  has  been  narrated  above,  "  to  obtain  rein- 
statement "  in  the  Government  offices.  At  the  same 


VERLAINE  A  FARMER  359 

time  he  endeavoured  to  regain  his  footing  in  the 
literary  world  of  Paris.  It  was  at  this  time  that 
I  introduced  him  to  the  Rtveil,  and  he  published 
Sagesse  with  Palme",  the  publisher ;  it  did  not  create 
the  least  sensation.  We  will  return  in  the  next 
chapter  to  this  period  in  Verlaine's  literary  career, 
confining  ourselves  at  present  to  the  termination  of 
his  career  as  farmer. 

A  disaster  suddenly  overtook  him.  Lucien 
Ldtinois  was  carried  off  by  typhoid  fever  in  the 
Hdpital  de  la  Pitie,  and  Verlaine  experienced 
violent  grief.  In  his  book,  Amour,  he  poured  out 
his  sorrow  in  beautiful  lines,  equal,  if  not  superior, 
to  those  in  the  Contemplations,  in  which  Victor 
Hugo  lamented  the  tragic  death  of  his  daughter 
L6opoldine.  In  this  requiem  Verlaine  employed 
an  incomparable  simplicity,  sorrowful  and  homely 
phrases,  which  cause  the  reader's  inmost  being  to 
vibrate  as  if  to  the  melancholy  and  grave  sounds 
of  the  violoncello.  Few  poems  have  a  deeper 
intensity  than  the  short  piece  in  which  he  evoked 
some  of  his  meetings  with  his  lost  friend.  He 
spoke  of  the  gare  d'Auteuil  as  a  paradise,  since  he 
was  to  meet  him  there,  and  recalled  the  first  sight 
of  him  with  a  mournful  joy.  Then  together  the 
two  friends  would  wander  under  the  trees,  dis- 
cussing points  of  theology,  metaphysics,  doubt 
opposed  to  faith. 

"  O  tes  forts  arguments,  ta  foi  de  charbonnier  !  .  .  . 
Et  puis  nous  rentrions,  plus  que  lents,  par  la  route.  .  .  ." 

Verlaine  was  present  at  Letinois's  death,  and 

followed  him  to  his  grave  in  the  cemetry  at  Ivry. 

In  a  noble  lamentation  Verlaine,  remembering 


360  PAUL  VERLAINE 

Job,  mourned  but  dared  not  accuse  the  Divinity 
who  had  struck  so  cruel  a  blow  at  his  affections  : 

"  Mon  fils  est  mort.  J'adore,  6  mon  Dieu,  votre  loi  .  .  . 
Vous  chatiez  bien  fort.  Mon  fils  est  mort,  helas  ! 
Vous  me  1'aviez  donne,  voici  que  votre  droite 
Me  le  reprend,  a  I'heure  ou  mes  pauvres  pieds  las 
Reclamaient  ce  cher  guide  en  cette  route  etroite. 
Vous  me  1'aviez  donne,  vous  me  le  reprenez : 
Gloire  a  vous !  .  .  ." 

In  all  these  sad  verses  of  his  Verlaine  displayed 
the  most  Christian  resignation.  He  regarded  his 
loss  as  a  punishment,  an  expiation.  He  ought 
not  to  have  substituted  this  son  by  election  for 
the  legitimate  one  who  would  return  to  him  later, 
realising  that  his  father  had  endurd  de  sottises 
f traces.  He  ought  to  have  left  the  young  man 
in  his  home.  The  adoption  was  forbidden  fruit, 
and  heaven  punished  him  for  reaching  out  his  hand 
toward  it. 

To  this  mystical  exaltation,  which  led  the  poet 
to  regard  his  loss  as  moral  discipline,  Verlaine 
added  an  undoubtedly  sincere  testimony  of  the 
absolute  innocence  of  the  friendship.  He  always 
depicted  Lucien  Le"tinois  as  a  pure  being,  the  sight 
and  presence  of  whom  purified  him  : 

"  De  lui,  simple  et  blanc  comme  un  lys  calme,  aux  couleurs 
D'innocence  candide  et  d'esperance  verte, 
L'Exemple  descendait  sur  mon  ame  entr'ouverte, 
Et  sur  mon  coeur  qu'il  penetrait,  plein  de  pitie, 
Par  un  chemin  seme  des  fleurs  de  1'amitie !  .  .  .  " 

When  he  speaks  of  the  young  friend  so  brutally 
torn  from  him  it  was  always  in  such  terms  as : 
"1'ange  ignorant  de  nos  routes,"  "le  pur  esprit 
vetu  d'une  innocente  chair,"  and  "mon  bon  ange." 


VERLAINE  A  FARMER  361 

He  recalled  how  he  had  dreamed  of  marriage  for 
him,  and  evoked  "la  parfaite,  la  belle  et  sage 
fiancee."  Such  lines  in  Amour  and  others  in 
Bonheur,  give  a  perfectly  definite  character  of 
purity  and  virtue  to  Verlaine's  affection  for  Lucien 
Le"tinois,  absent  from  the  later  noisy  friendships  of 
the  poet.  He  thus  described  his  sentiment  for 
Lucien,  his  " guardian  angel,"  "good  counsellor," 
"plank  of  safety  in  the  shipwreck  of  passion." 

"  .  .  .  Je  t'estime  et  je  t'aime,  6  si  fidelement 
Trouvant  dans  ces  devoirs  mes  plus  cheres  delices, 
Deployant  tout  le  peu  que  j'ai  de  paternel, 

Plus  encor  que  de  fraternel,  malgre  1'extreme 
Fraternite,  tu  sais,  qu'eut  notre  amitie  meme.  .  .  ." 

(Bonhcur,  xv.) 

And  he  adds  this  declaration  of  friendship  which 
should  serve  as  a  shield  against  all  the  thrusts  of 
calumny  : 

"...  Soyons  tout  Tun  pour  Pautre,  en  depit  de  1'envie 
Soyons  tout  Tun  a  Pautre  en  toute  bonne  foi. 
Nous  avons  le  bonheur  ainsi  qu'il  est  permis. 

Toi,  de  qui  la  pense*e  est  toute  dans  la  mienne, 
II  n'est  dans  la  legende  actuelle  et  1'ancienne 
Rien  de  plus  noble  et  de  plus  beau  que  deux  amis." 

(Bonheur)  xv.) 

These  invocations  to  friendship  are  touching, 
and  written  in  charming  verse.  Death  broke  the 
pleasant  bond.  It  was  a  rough  blow  for  the  poet, 
and  an  unfortunate  one.  Verlaine  began  to  descend 
with  ever-increasing  rapidity  the  slope  leading  to 
an  abyss  which  was  to  swallow  up  not  only  the 
health,  the  tranquillity,  the  well  -  being,  and  the 
dignity  of  the  poet,  but  a  large  share  of  his  fine 
talent. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

RETURN     TO      PARIS     AND     THE     LITERARY     WORLD 

SAGESSE — LES    POETES    MAUD  ITS — LES    ME  MO  I  RES 
tiUN  VMUF 

(1881-1883) 

VERLAINE,  after  his  return  to  Paris,  lived  successively 
at  Bologne-sur-Seine,  in  the  Rue  de  Lyon,  and  at 
No.  17  Rue  de  la  Roquette,  and  having  renounced 
agriculture  for  the  time  being  endeavoured  to 
resume  his  place  in  literature.  He  had  entirely 
lost  touch  both  with  authors  and  booksellers,  and 
it  was  difficult  for  me  to  find  a  publisher  for  him  ; 
Dentu  and  Veuve  Tresse  (Victor  Stock)  who 
published  my  first  novels  would  not  hear  of  poetry. 
At  last  the  Catholic  publisher,  Victor  Palme",  took 
the  manuscript,  which  the  poet  had  been  hawking 
round  with  monotonous  unsuccess  from  publisher  to 
publisher.  Palme"  accepted  the  volume,  not  because 
the  poems  seemed  to  him  to  be  fine,  but  solely 
because  the  work  of  M.  Paul  Verlaine  had  been 
recommended  to  him  by  pious  persons  as  likely  to 
furnish  edifying  reading.  This  was  Sagesse.  It 
was  not  as  one  of  the  finest  books  in  our  literature, 
or  as  the  only  religious  poem  that  the  nineteenth 
century  produced,  that  Sagesse  was  printed,  but  as 
a  collection  of  new  hymns  likely  to  vary  the 

362 


&A&B88S 

monotony  of  the  liturgical  repertoire.  The  un- 
witting publisher  has  since  acquired  indisputable 
reflected  glory  from  its  publication ;  but,  at  the 
time,  he  made  a  poor  business  of  it — to  his  great 
chagrin. 

This  book,  which  was  afterwards  to  place 
Verlaine  in  the  front  rank  of  poetry,  attracted  no 
attention  whatever.  The  first  readers  for  whom 
it  was  designed,  the  poets,  were  entirely  lacking. 
Not  one  voice  was  raised  in  the  press  to  signal 
the  appearance  of  this  incomparable  and  sur- 
prisingly original  collection.  I  certainly  wrote 
a  eulogistic  article  on  the  poems,  the  greater 
number  of  which  I  possessed  in  manuscript,  and 
of  which  I  had  the  pleasure  of  being  the  first 
reader,  but  that  year  I  was  writing  solely  in  political 
journals  like  the  Mot  d'Ordre,  and  my  article  on 
Sagesse,  of  necessity  abridged,  did  not  come  under 
the  notice  of  readers  interested  in  poetry.  The 
ordinary  clientele  of  the  paper  despised  a  work 
which  appeared  to  be  "  clerical." 

Sagesse  had,  moreover,  the  misfortune  of  being 
quite  unappreciated  by  the  Catholic  circle,  and  the 
publisher,  annoyed  at  having  been  misled  into  print- 
ing a  book  of  a  character  inconsistent  with  the 
works  of  piety,  of  which  he  made  a  speciality, 
hastened  to  remove  the  whole  stock  to  the  cellar, 
and  afterwards,  to  free  himself  from  an  incumbrance, 
sold  the  whole  edition  as  waste  paper,  resolving  that 
never  again  would  he  publish  verse  so  full  of  unction, 
so  perfumed  with  orthodoxy  as  he  had  been  assured 
these  were.  He  was  right,  this  merchant  of  prayer- 
books  ;  the  pious  do  not  buy  volumes  of  verse,  and 
the  clergy  have  not  time  to  read  them,  particularly 


36*  PAUL  VERLAINE 

nowadays,  when  they  are  so  much  occupied  with 
politics,  dividing  their  reading  between  newspapers 
and  breviaries. 

Palme*  was  mistaken,  but  he  was  not  qualified 
to  launch  a  book  of  subtle,  exquisite,  and  intense 
poetry  such  as  this.  He  would  have  been  consoled 
afterwards  for  his  initial  want  of  success  if  one  of 
his  clerks  had  chanced  to  think  of  putting  aside  a 
few  copies  of  the  unsaleable  book.  The  original 
edition  of  Sagesse,  of  which  there  now  exist  only  a 
few  copies  in  the  possession  of  friends,  is  greatly 
sought  after  by  collectors.  Twenty  or  thirty  copies 
saved  from  the  paper  merchant  would  have  reim- 
bursed Palme"  for  the  expenses  of  a  publication  he 
considered  unfortunate  and  ill-advised. 

The  original  addition  of  Sagesse  is  an  oblong 
volume  informal  something  like  that  of  an  in-8vo. 
It  contains  only  106  pages.  The  type  is  rather 
thick  and  very  clear,  in  the  old  style.  The  cover 
is  a  greyish  yellow ;  it  has  on  it :  "  A.  Paul 
Verlaine — Sagesse  ".  The  publisher's  trade  mark,  a 
shield  with  griffins  and  a  lion  rampant,  tail  erect, 
and  head  turned,  with  the  motto  :  Sustinens  palmas 
Domini.  At  the  foot :  "  Paris  Socie'te'  ge"ne"rale 
de  Librairie  Catholique.  Paris,  Ancienne  Maison 
Victor  Palme",  76  Rue  des  Saints-Peres.  Bruxelles 
Ancienne  Maison  Henri  Gcemare,  29  Rue  des 
Paroissiens.  MDCCCLXXXI."  On  the  half  title 
is  :  "  Du  meme  auteur :  En  preparation  :  Amour. 
Voyage  en  France  par  un  Franfais."  And  at  the 
foot :  "  Evreux,  Imprimerie  de  Charles  Herissey." 

The  book  is  dedicated  A  ma  mere. 

The   original  edition  has  a  preface,  which  has 
not  been  included   with   Sagesse  in  vol.  i.    of  the 


SAGESSE  365 

complete  works  published  by  Le*on  Vanier  in  1899. 
Why  not?     I  therefore  reproduce  it, 

"The  author  of  this  book  has  not  always 
thought  as  he  does  now.  For  a  long  time  he 
wandered  in  contemporary  corruption,  bearing  his 
part  in  its  sin  and  ignorance ;  but  troubles,  well- 
merited,  came  as  a  warning,  by  which  God  has 
graciously  permitted  him  to  profit.  He  now  pro- 
strates himself  before  the  long  neglected  Altar,  he 
adores  the  All  Perfect,  and  invokes  the  Almighty ; 
an  obedient  son  of  the  Church,  least  as  regards 
merit,  but  full  of  good-will.  The  consciousness  of 
his  weakness  and  the  remembrance  of  his  failures 
guided  him  in  the  elaboration  of  this  book,  which 
is  his  first  public  act  of  faith  after  a  long  literary 
silence ;  nothing  will  be  found  in  it,  he  hopes, 
contrary  to  the  charity  which  the  author,  hence- 
forward a  Christian,  owes  to  sinners  in  whose  detest- 
able ways  he  followed  until  recently. 

"  Two  or  three  poems  nevertheless  break  the 
silence  that  he  conscientiously  imposed  upon  him- 
self in  this  respect,  but  it  will  be  observed  that  they 
bear  on  public  actions,  on  events  too  generally  pro- 
vidential in  their  after  effects  to  be  regarded  as 
anything  but  a  necessary  testimony  ;  a  confession 
of  which  was  called  for  both  by  religious  duty  and 
hope  for  France. 

"  The  author  published,  when  very  young,  i.e., 
ten  years  ago,  some  sceptical  and  sadly  frivolous 
verses.  He  dares  to  believe  that  in  those  which 
follow  no  dissonance  will  shock  the  delicacy  of  the 
Catholic  ear  :  it  would  be  his  dearest  fame  as  it 
is  his  most  confident  hope. 

"PARIS,  $oth  July  1880." 

The  edifying  sentiments  expressed  in  this  pre- 
face, undoubtedly  calculated  to  impress  les  oreilles 


366  PAUL  VERLAINE 

catholiques,  were  not  unfailingly  persistent.  It  is 
true  that  the  above-mentioned  ears  remained  deaf 
to  the  pious  accents  of  the  converted  poet.  Subse- 
quent volumes,  notably  that  entitled  Femmes,  printed 
and  published  under  the  rose,  showed  signs  of  a 
return  to  the  verses,  if  not  sceptical  and  impious, 
at  least  light.  At  the  same  time,  it  must  be  recog- 
nised that  Verlaine  never  went  back  to  irreligion, 
but  always  reverenced  the  beliefs  and  religious 
practices  of  his  childhood,  which  he  had  resumed, 
at  least  poetically,  after  the  storms  and  cataclysms 
of  his  maturer  years. 

Verlaine,  in  spite  of  the  ill  success  of  Sagesse, 
perhaps  by  reason  of  this  mortification,  seeing  his 
resources  diminishing,  and  his  mother,  with  reason, 
being  less  ready  to  supply  him  with  funds,  courage- 
ously resolved  "  to  live  by  his  pen."  He  had  always 
had  this  desire  as  many  of  his  letters  prove,  but  had 
not  made  much  progress  in  remunerative  literary 
work.  He  knew  very  well  that  verses  do  not  sell 
except  in  very  rare  cases,  having  published  all  his 
first  volumes  at  his  own  expense.  He  had  only 
dreamed  of  works  likely  to  be  accepted  by  editors 
and  publishers.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  he  had  no 
aptitude  for  practical  commercial  current  literature. 
For  this  he  should  be  praised.  As  Edgar  Poe,  with 
whom  he  had  more  than  one  point  of  resemblance, 
said,  "he  wrote  too  much  above  the  vulgar"  to  be 
accepted  and  remunerated  by  the  daily  papers.  I 
succeeded,  however,  as  will  be  seen  later,  in  obtain- 
ing regular  paid  employment  for  him  on  the  Rdveil> 
in  which  journal,  it  is  true,  I  had  the  upper  hand. 
It  was  an  exceptional  case.  He  never  published 
anything  even  when  he  had  obtained  a  legitimate 


SAGESSE  367 

notoriety  and  was  surrounded  by  the  halo  of  misery 
and  the  hospital,  except  in  out-of-the-way  papers, 
juvenile  reviews,  firebrands  of  audacious  schools, 
tentative  publications  for  a  restricted  clientele,  of 
which  only  an  infinitesimal  number  were  printed  and 
distributed  more  often  than  sold.  He  was  always 
a  poet,  dreamer,  and  fantasist,  and  could  not  bend 
himself  to  the  exigencies  of  ordinary  publication  nor 
popular  taste.  He  never  thought  at  any  time  of 
sharing  the  profits,  although  they  accrued  in  the 
case  of  several  of  his  works ;  but  not  until  later. 
He  was  unable  to  write  a  long  novel ;  he  lacked 
the  necessary  imagination.  The  construction  of 
a  story  with  characters,  adventures,  and  action 
was  impossible  to  him.  Equally  so  was  a  psycho- 
logical work,  although  he  was  well  read  in  this 
class  of  literature  and  knew  Obermann,  Adolphe, 
Jacques,  and  various  novels  by  George  Sand. 
Sentimental  descriptions  would  have  been  more 
within  his  scope,  but  he  had  no  heart  for  them. 
Poetical  composition  spoilt  him  for  such  work,  and 
popular  prose  came  heavily  from  the  fingers  accus- 
tomed to  strike  the  lyre.  In  verse  he  introduced 
psychology,  inspired  by  Joseph  Delorme  and  Mme. 
Desbordes-Valmore  ;  but  in  prose  he  could  not  get 
away  from  himself,  and  an  author  cannot  be  always 
in  the  confessional. 

As  for  plays,  they  tempted  him.  We  have  seen 
how,  in  his  earlier  years,  he  amused  himself  with 
attempting  an  operatic  farce  (La  Famille  Beau- 
trouillards,  never  finished),  and  also  began  in 
collaboration  with  me  a  drama,  popular  and  yet 
superior  to  traditional  melodramas,  the  Forgerons. 
We  meant  to  depict  in  five  prose  acts,  destined  for 


368  PAUL  VERLAINE 

the  Porte-Sainte-Martin  or  the  Ode'on,  jealousy  in  a 
working  man,  a  sentiment  very  strong  and  violent  in 
its  manifestations  among  stunted  souls  and  bodies 
inured  to  rough  labour.  The  play  was  never 
finished,  and  I  have  only  preserved  the  interrupted 
fragments  of  the  first  acts.  Perhaps  it  had  in  it 
the  elements  of  a  good  piece.  I  have  another 
project  for  a  play,  L Alchimiste,  which  we  also 
meant  to  write  together,  and  which  was  never 
even  begun.  The  two  little  pieces  which  Verlaine 
has  left,  Madame  Aubin  and  Les  Uns  et  les  Autres, 
the  latter  of  which  was  represented  at  his  benefit 
at  the  Vaudeville  Theatre,  cannot  be  counted  as 
serious  dramatic  productions. 

There  remained  to  him,  outside  his  poetic  vein, 
which  was  always  abundant,  original,  coloured,  and 
harmonious,  a  vein  of  prose  to  be  exploited.  He 
was  what  the  English  call  an  "  essayist."  He 
excelled  in  little  pieces  prolonged  by  digressions, 
often  happy  and  unexpected,  in  which  he  noted 
things  seen,  impressions  felt.  He  wielded  now 
and  then  very  gracefully  the  critic's  ferule ;  but 
he  was  much  more  ready  to  praise.  He  succeeded 
to  perfection  in  humorous  descriptions  of  places 
seen,  landscapes,  interiors,  and  people  met.  Les 
Mdmoires  d"un  Veuf,  Quinze  jours  en  Hollande  con- 
tain masterpieces  of  this  kind  which  will  figure  later 
in  collections  of  pieces  selected  from  our  prose 
writers.  But  his  personality  always  dominated  him, 
and  the  events  of  his  life  interposed  between  him 
and  the  outer  world.  There  are  few  pages  in 
which  he  makes  no  allusion  to  his  sorrows  and 
troubles,  his  lost  wife,  and  her  parents  who  incited 
him  to  perdition. 


SAG-ESSE  369 

He  resolved,  however,  to  realise  by  his  poetical 
imaginative,    digressive,    parenthetical    prose    the 
ideal  of  Theodore  de  Danville's  young  man,  whose 
improbable  destiny  we  had  often  merrily  evoked : 
"The  lyrical   poet  who  lived   by  his   profession." 
I  encouraged  him  in  this  design,  and  took  him  on 
the  Rdveil,  a   great   literary  daily  paper  of  which 
I   was  editor-in-chief.     The  offices  of  the  Rdveil, 
together  with  those  of  the  Mot  dOrdre,  which  was 
under  the  same  management,  were  on  the  ground 
and  first  floors   of   No.    19   Rue    Bergere,   at   the 
corner  of  the  Cite"   Rougemont.     There  was  in  the 
same  building  a  German  brasserie  where  Verlaine 
very  regularly  waited  for  me ;  but  I    was  scarcely 
ever  free  till  seven  o'clock.     Several  of  the  writers 
on  our  papers  noticed  and  were  disquieted  by  the 
strange  apparition.    Who  was  this  unknown  "  type," 
bald,  but  thickly  bearded,  with  rough-cast  features, 
and  the  appearance   of  a   wandering  Jew   of  the 
Boul'  Mich',  wearing  a  thick  macfarlane,  with  the 
air   of   a    Montmartrois    hidalgo,    whose   mocking 
smile  zig-zagged  below  a  Socratic  nose  ?     Evidently 
he  was  no  ordinary  Bohemian.     Henry  Bailer,  who 
afterwards  very  cleverly  described  his  first  sight  of 
the  vagabond  poet,  in  whom  he  found  something 
sinister    and    disquieting,    interrogated    me    with 
regard  to  him.     My  strange   visitor   greatly   per- 
plexed the  ears  and  disconcerted  the  minds  of  those 
who   observed   him.     They   were    surprised   when 
they   caught  fragments  of  our   long   disconnected 
conversations  on  literature,  philosophy,  history,  in 
which  we  quoted  books  of  divers  characters  :  the 
Ramayana,  Gaspard  de  la   Nuit ;   Port-Royal,   by 
Sainte-Beuve ;  the  Ensorcelte  by  Barbey  d'Aurevilly ; 

2  A 


370  PAUL  VERLAINE 

Marlowe's  Faust ;  Calderon's  Devotion  a  la  Croix\ 
Les  Nuits,  of  Aulu-Gelle ;  and  Petrus  Borel's 
Rhapsodies. 

To  Henry  Bauer's  question  regarding  my  friend, 
I  replied  simply :  "  It  is  Paul  Verlaine,  a  great 
poet."  "Ah  yes!  .  .  .  . "  Balier  said  politely,  and 
went  away,  apparently  none  the  wiser.  A  few 
days  afterwards  I  lent  him  a  copy  of  the  Romances 
sans  Paroles.  He  took  the  little  book  away,  read 
it,  and  said  to  me  :  "  You  are  right,  Verlaine  is  a 
very  great  poet,"  and  from  that  day  he  has  been 
one  of  Verlaine's  fervent  admirers. 

The  Rtveil,  forerunner  of  the  Echo  de  Paris, 
was  a  great  literary  journal,  the  true  precursor  of 
many  other  successful  papers  which  founded  them- 
selves  upon    it.     It   was    originated    by   Valentin 
Simond,    and    contained    only     a     short    political 
bulletin.     At  this  period  it  was  a  doubtful  innova- 
tion, for  a  newspaper  was  not  supposed  to  be  able 
to  exist  without  polemics.     Reviews,  authentic  facts, 
reports,    portraits,    green-room   indiscretions,    short 
stories,  and  first-rate  novels  (the  Rtveil  published 
Alphonse  Daudet's   Sapho,   Guy  de    Maupassant's 
Sceurs  Rondoli,    etc.,    etc.)    made    the    Reveil  an 
original  and  interesting  journal ;  it  proceeded  from 
Villemessant's   old   Figaro,    and   Aurelian   Scholl's 
Evtnement\  but  it  dealt  more  in  artistic  matters, 
and  was  less  preoccupied  with  polemics  and  political 
personalities.     It  was  an  ingenious  creation  ;  but  its 
success  did  not  come  up  to  its  founder's  expectation. 
It  was   premature,   an  eclectical  organ,  republican 
without  violence.     The    beginning   of  anything  is 
often  attended  with  mortification.     The  Reveil  was 
a  novelty  in  literary  and  informative  journalism,  but 


SMJtSSJS  371 

the  old  political  and  didactic  style  still  carried  the 
day.  Polemics,  parliamentary  discussions,  doctrinal 
and  sociological  theories  were  all  the  rage,  and  one 
could  hardly  foresee  outside  the  Quartier  Latin 
and  some  of  the  boulevard  cafe's  a  clientele  for  a 
paper,  almost  exclusively  literary,  in  which  poets 
were  dealt  with,  and  columns  on  the  first  page 
devoted  to  a  theatrical  representation,  the  criticism 
of  a  book,  the  explanation  of  a  mundane  scandal, 
or  the  analysis  of  a  legal  drama.  But  sometime 
afterwards  the  Gil  Bias  appeared,  and  its  great  and 
rebounding  success  afforded  a  permanent  contradic- 
tion to  this  assertion  current  in  the  newspaper 
world.  Later  the  Echo  de  Paris,  the  Journal,  and 
the  Matin,  influenced  some  of  the  papers,  until 
then  entirely  political,  to  suppress  the  doctrinal 
article,  the  "tartine,"  and  to  give  more  space  to 
news,  criticism  and  topical  scandal.  Thus  was  com- 
pleted the  transformation  of  the  press,  and  thus 
grew  in  popularity  and  circulation  the  literary, 
mundane  news  sheets,  leaving  far  behind  them 
those  of  the  old  style,  which  dragged  on  a  miserable 
existence  for  a  little  while,  or  else  remoulded  them- 
selves on  the  pattern  of  the  new  sensational  press. 

The  Rtveil  was  not  able  to  overcome  the  initial 
obstacles.  Neither  talent  on  the  part  of  the  writers, 
nor  ability  on  that  of  the  administration  were  lack- 
ing, to  prevent  it  from  following  its  course  :  its  too 
hasty  departure  in  the  face  of  a  surprised  unpre- 
pared clientele  was  the  sole  cause  of  its  defeat,  for 
which  Valentin  Simond  soon  took  a  brilliant  and 
novel  revenge  by  launching  the  Echo  de  Paris, 
which  was  a  second  Reveil,  only  better  furnished 
with  collaborators  and  money. 


372  PAUL  VERLAINE 

The  principal  writers  on  the  Rdveil  were  :  Leon 
Cladel,  Jules  Valles,  Paul  Alexis,  Rene  Maizeroy, 
Francis  Enne,  Hector  France,  Albert  Dubrujeaud, 
Henry  Baiier,  Gaston  Vassy,  Emile  Bergerat, 
Jules  Caze,  Paul  Bonnetain,  Henri  Fevre,  Emile 
Ble*mont,  and  lastly  Paul  Verlaine,  and  Edmond 
Lepelletier. 

The  editor's  secretary  was  Robert  Caze,  a 
novelist  of  much  talent,  the  author  of  the  Martyre 
cFAnnil,  who  was  unfortunately  killed  in  a  duel 
with  a  decadent  poet,  still  obscure  in  spite  of  the 
sensation  created  by  the  affair,  which  arose  from  his 
anger  at  a  criticism  of  his  bizarre  lucubrations.  He 
deprived  our  literature  of  strong  and  original  works, 
and,  moreover,  contributed  to  the  wreckage  of  two 
other  lives :  Robert  Gaze's  young  wife  did  not 
survive  her  husband  more  than  a  year,  and  their 
orphan  child,  left  penniless,  to  grow  up  as  best  he 
could,  became  a  young  criminal :  he  was  brought  up 
before  the  Court  of  Assizes  several  years  ago  for 
murder  and  theft,  and  sentenced  to  imprisonment. 
Wounded  literary  amour-propre  sometimes  takes  a 
terrible  revenge,  and  duels  between  men  of  letters 
do  not  always  terminate  in  a  breakfast  as  the  foolish 
pretend. 

Taking  advantage  of  Verlaine's  happy  determina- 
tion to  write  prose  suitable  for  a  newspaper,  I  intro- 
duced him  to  the  manager  of  the  Rdveil.  Although 
literature  was  its  leading  feature  the  journal  was 
none  the  less  a  popular  organ  intended  for  the  great 
public.  I,  therefore,  urged  the  author  of  Sagesse  to 
bring  me  something  which  would  come  within  the 
scope  of  a  daily  paper.  Verlaine's  first  essays  in 
this  direction  were  mostly  autobiographical  in 


LES  PO&TES  M AUDITS  373 

character,   and   contained  allusions  to  his  troubles 
with  his  wife's  family. 

The  following  letter  is  an  indication  of  his  state 
of  mind  in  this  respect,  and  the  rather  strange  idea 
he  had  of  a  newspaper. 

"  Wednesday. 

"  Here  is  an  essay  for  Jean  quipleure,  and  Jean 
qui  rit.  I  think  it  is  sufficiently  general  and 
dramatic  to  pass. 

"If  it  does  pass,  I  particularly  recommend  to 
you  the  vieille  m  .  .  . !  (Cambronne's  famous 
term).  You  can  guess  to  whom  it  refers  (to  his 
father-in-law). 

"  If  it  is  impossible  then  put  it  with  full  stops 
vieille  m  .  .  . !  or  vieille  moule.  But  it  would 
please  me  if  it  could  appear  in  full." 

I  had  inaugurated  in  the  Re'veil  an  idea  which 
has  since  been  imitated,  perhaps  perfected,  and  was 
most  popular :  Paris-  Vivant,  made  up  of  short 
articles  printed  in  italics  on  the  first  page ;  impres- 
sions, Paris  pictures,  sketches,  sensations,  and 
scenes  taken  from  life.  They  were  signed  Jean  qui 
pleure  or  Jean  qui  rit  in  accordance  with  the  tone, 
melancholy  or  gay,  of  the  subject.  I  wrote  the  two 
first,  and  then  inserted  a  certain  number  by  Paul 
Bonnetain,  Robert  Caze,  and  others,  among  them 
some  by  Paul  Verlaine,  although  his  articles  were 
hardly  suitable,  even  to  our  journal  itself.  Naturally 
I  was  unable  to  insert,  in  spite  of  his  great  desire, 
the  epithet  to  which  he  referred. 

Here  are  some  letters  relating  to  these  articles, 
the  insertion  of  which  gave  the  author  great 
pleasure.  The  first  was  partly  in  English  : 


374  PAUL  VERLAINE 

"  Enclosed  is  L'Ami  de  la  Nature  you  asked 
for  (a  little  song  of  the  Bruant  species,  but  written 
fifteen  years  before  the  Marchd  des  Dos).  ...  It 
will  appear,  and  then  various  prose  poems  from 
La  Par o die. 

"  I  recommend  myself  always  to  M.  de  B. 

"  I  will  try  to  go  to-morrow  to  the  Brasserie, 
but  have  not  much  hope  of  doing  so.  My  wretched 
cold  makes  me  literally  ill.  .  .  . 

4 'Don't  you  think  that  it  would  be  possible  to 
me  to  hope  for  some  money  in  return  of  my  four 
Paris -living!  If  such  was  the  case,  I  would 
manage  in  order  to  write  one  per  week.  You 
could  perhaps,  if  I  were  not  able  to-morrow  to 
see  you  at  the  *  Brasserie/  answer  me  and  deep 
post  a  word  on  the  matter. 

"Excuse  bad  English,  and  believe  me  to 
remain.  ..." 

"  2yd  December. 

"  Here  is  an  essay  for  Jean  qui  rit.  .  .  . 
"WhatofM.de  B.?  ' 

"You  ought  to  have  received  a  Jean  qui 
pleure  yesterday  at  the  Brasserie.  .  .  ." 

"Friday  evening. 

"  In  a  hurry.     Cannot  wait  for  you. 
"  Enclosed   is   a  Jean  qui  pleure.     To-morrow 
I  will  send  or  bring  you  a  Jean  qui  rit :  Auteuil. 
"What  of  M.  deB.?" 

The  insistence  with  which,  when  sending  his 
Paris- Vivants,  Verlaine  enquired  about  M.  de  B. 
was  in  connection  with  his  application  for  re- 
instatement as  employee  in  the  Prefecture  de  la 
Seine,  an  application  which  I  had  warmly  recom- 
mended to  Charles  Floquet,  then  Prefet  de  la 
Seine,  and  which  was  supported  by  my  colleague 


LES  M&MOIRES  IT  UN  VEUF  375 

on    the   Mot  dOrdre,    M.    Jehan    de    Bouteiller, 
then  President  of  the  Municipal  Council. 

The  greater  number  of  the  Paris- Vivants  Paul 
Verlaine  wrote  are  reproduced  in  Les  Mdmoires 
dun  Veuft  as  the  following  letter  indicates : 

"BRASSERIE  BERGERE,  Saturday  evening. 

"6.25.  Missed  you  this  evening.  According 
to  the  waiter  you  hurried  off  only  five  minutes 
ago.  I  came  very  much  in  connection  with  the 
*  Ville '  and  M.  de  B  ;  also  a  little  in  connection 
with  the  affair  V.  versus  M.  (Verlaine  v.  Maute") 
which  is  less  urgent. 

".  .  .  Enclosed  is  a  Paris-  Vivant.  Cut  or 
prune  if  you  think  necessary  .  .  .  but  if  you  can, 
supposing  it  is  not  inserted,  keep  the  manuscript 
for  me.  It  is  to  make  part,  you  know,  of  a  prose 
volume  entitled  Les  Mdmoires  d'un  Veuf,  which  is 
dedicated  to  you.  You  have  been,  in  a  fashion,  the 
depositary  of  the  chapters  in  this  little  book  which 
you  are  good  enough  to  accept." 

Les  Mdmoires  dun  Veuf  were  indeed  dedicated 
to  me,  but,  if  I  am  not  mistaken,  this  dedication, 
which  figured  at  the  commencement  of  the  original 
edition,  is  not  included  in  the  fourth  volume  of  the 
complete  works.  The  publisher  erred  in  suppress- 
ing it,  for  it  contained  an  interesting  and  precise 
definition  of  this  very  personal  and  characteristic 
prose  work  of  Verlaine's.  It  ran  as  follows  : 

"  DEDICATION  TO  EDMOND  LEPELLETIER. 

"  My  dear  Edmond,  here  are  some  pages, 
under  an  enormous  title,  which  are  neither  a  little 
novel,  nor  a  collection  of  small  bits  of  news,  but 
rather  fragments  of  a  career  lived  to  some  ex- 
tent under  your  eyes.  There  are  no  double 


376  PAUL  VERLAINE 

meanings  in  the  little  work;  nevertheless,  as  the  public 
cannot  read  between  the  lines,  and  would  experi- 
ence no  pleasure,  even  malicious,  in  doing  so,  I 
have  been  obliged  to  develop  certain  passages, 
which  you  and  two  or  three  others  alone  will 
understand,  with  generalities  for  the  benefit  of  the 
unknown  reader. 

"  Many  opinions  separate  us  to-day ;  we  have 
in  common  only  one  idea,  except  as  regards  initial 
good  sense  and  literature,  ferociously  idolised  by 
me,  which  is  to  keep  intact  the  old  friendship  so 
strong  and  so  beautiful. 

"  Accept,  therefore,  this  dedication,  as  simple 
as  my  heart,  but  sincere  and  warm  as  my  hand 
when  it  presses  yours." 

Les  Mtmoires  (Tun  Veuf  contained,  as  has 
already  been  said,  some  short  articles  published 
in  the  Rdveil,  which  were  generally  Parisian  or 
country  pictures,  such  as  Auteuil,  Les  Chiens,  Nuit 
Noire,  Nuit  Blanche,  Un  Bon  Coin,  Par  la 
Croiste,  A  la  Campagne,  descriptive  and  ironical  ; 
or  reveries  and  fantasies,  in  the  style  of  Baudelaire's 
Petits  Poemes  en  Prose ;  Quelques  -  uns  de  mes 
Rfoes,  Palinodie,  Mon  Hameau,  La  Morte,  Ma 
Fille,  Les  Fleurs  Artificielles  ;  or  sensations  and 
hallucinations :  Jeux  d'Enfants,  Corbillard  au 
Galop  (recollections  of  an  impression  we  received 
together  in  the  Brasserie,  Rue  Fontaine,  and  which 
I  had  embodied  in  a  piece  of  verse  in  the  Nain 
Jaune,  1869) ;  and  lastly,  some  recollections  of 
troubles  or  personal  rancours,  such  as  in  Bons 
Bourgeois,  a  picture  of  a  domestic  quarrel,  Formes, 
in  which  the  lawyer,  Guyot-Sionnest,  and  his  study 
are  portrayed,  and  A  la  Memoir e  de  Mon  Ami  XXX. 

It  was  to  this  particular  fragment  that  Verlaine 
alluded  in  his  dedication  when  he  spoke  of  passages 


LES  M&M01RES  PUN   VEUF  377 

which  I  and  three  or  four  others  alone  could  under- 
stand. 

This  passage,  in  which  Verlaine  conjures  up, 
at  a  table  in  a  cafe"  once  frequented  by  us,  a 
picture,  seen  through  slow  tears,  of  a  comrade  of 
our  youth,  the  elegant  and  slim  form  of  twenty 
years,  and  handsome  head,  u  celle  de  Marceau 
plus  beau,"  as  he  says  in  his  posthumous  enthusiasm, 
relates  not  to  Lucien  Letinois,  but  a  friend  of 
earlier  date,  Lucien  Viotti.  This  charming  young 
man  joined  the  69th  Regiment  of  Infantry  at  the 
beginning  of  the  war  of  1870,  on  the  same  day 
that  I  did.  Indeed,  it  was  through  him  that  I 
chose  the  69th,  of  which  he  knew  the  captain. 

Verlaine,  in  this  short  In  Memoriam,  cried  in 
accents  of  distress,  like  those  of  Achilles,  when 
he  learned  the  death  of  Patroclus,  whom  he  had 
sent  into  the  combat : 

"  Alas !  oh,  unfortunate  delicacy,  oh,  deplorable 
and  unexampled  sacrifice,  oh,  imbecile  that  I  was 
not  to  have  understood  in  time  !  When  the  horrible 
war  in  which  our  country  nearly  perished  broke 
out,  you  engaged  in  it,  you  died  atrociously,  glorious 
youth,  because  of  me,  who  am  not  worth  a  drop  of 
your  blood,  and  of  her,  of  her !  .  .  ." 

The  private  and  sad  drama  which  these  lines 
of  Verlaine's  seem  to  reveal  had  escaped  me. 
It  is  true  I  had  remarked  the  melancholy  of  our 
friend ;  but  he  was  of  rather  a  reserved  nature, 
and  I  attributed  his  sadness  to  the  gravity  of  the 
time  and  anxiety  for  his  country.  It  was  not  until 
a  great  deal  later  we  learned  that  a  secret  un- 
fortunate love  for  the  girl  who  was  about  to  become 
his  friend's  bride  was  the  chief  motive  of  his 


378  PAUL  VERLAINE 

enlistment,  for  he  was  like  me,  doubly  exempt 
from  active  service  as  the  son  of  a  widow,  and 
as  having  drawn  a  lucky  number  in  the  ballot. 
Verlaine's  moving  and  mournful  phrases  explain 
this  poetical  and  tragic  adventure  of  love  and 
sacrifice  of  the  young  Viotti. 

Les  Mdmoirs  dun  Veuf  contains  some  pages  of 
criticism  :  among  them  a  succinct  and  fairly  exact 
history  of  the  Parnasse  Contemporain,  Verlaine 
very  clearly  demonstrating  the  decisive  influence 
of  this  group  on  the  literary  taste  and  opinion  of 
our  time ;  and  his  definition  of  the  mission  of  the 
poet,  and  the  action  of  poetry  could  hardly  be 
bettered. 

Much  less  just  and  certainly  reprehensible  is 
Verlaine's  attack  on  Victor  Hugo.  He  had  greatly 
admired,  and,  like  all  of  us,  closely  imitated  the 
master  in  his  early  poems.  Moreover,  he  had  been 
received  by  him  with  kindness,  and  even  flattery. 
There  was  something  of  ingratitude  in  his  irreverent 
attempt  to  depreciate  the  greatest  poet  of  the  nine- 
teenth century,  and  in  his  affected  admiration  for 
Gastibelza  and  the  Chanson  des  Pirates.  But,  as 
we  have  already  said,  Verlaine  sometimes  loved  a 
coarse  laugh,  and  had  impulses  towards  parody,  and 
his  exuberant  humour  must  not  be  taken  seriously. 
He  declared,  with  rude  irony,  that  it  would  have 
been  better  if  Victor  Hugo  had  died  in  1845,  an(^ 
allowed  him  three  ballads  only  on  which  to  rest 
his  fame :  Les  Bceufs  qui  Passent,  which,  set  to 
music  by  Lassimonne,  one  of  the  conductors  of 
the  orchestra  at  the  Elysee-Montmartre,  he  had 
applauded  at  a  cafe"-concert ;  Le  Pas  dArmes  du 
roi  Jean,  the  rhythmic  and  coloured  music  of 
which  we  had  praised  when  our  friend,  Emmanuel 


LES  MEMOIRES  PUN   VEUF  379 

Chabrier,  the  author  of  Espana,  improvised  it  with 
his  indefatigable  fingers  one  evening  at  L.-X.  de 
Ricard's  ;  and  La  Chasse  du  Burgrave.  He  allowed 
some  merit  to  Les  Tronfons  du  Serpent  and  the 
Orientales,  which  he  proclaimed  a  pearl.  In  prose 
he  admired  Bug-Jargal  and  Notre-Dame  de  Paris, 
which  he  asserted  was  very  amusing  in  places,  and 
finally,  he  classed  among  the  works  worth  pre- 
serving Le  Rkin — all  the  rest  he  consigned  to 
perdition. 

"  Oui,"  he  cried  in  a  sort  of  iconoclastic  fury, 
"  tout  ce  qui  part  des  Chdtiments,  et  Chdtiments 
compris,  m'emplit  d'ennui,  me  semble  turgescence, 
brume,  langue  d£sagre"g£e,  d'art  non  plus  pour  1'art 
incommensurable,  monstrueuse  improvisation,  bouts- 
rim£s  pas  varies,  ombre,  sombre,  t^nebres,  funebres, 
facilit^  deplorable,  6  ces  Contemplations,  ces  Chansons 
des  Rues  et  des  Bois  !  manque  insolent  platement  de 
la  moindre  composition,  plus  nul  souci  d'e"tonner  que 
par  des  moyens  pires  qu'enfantins." 

In  this  mad  demolition,  vainly  attempted  by 
him  and  by  others  who  had  not  his  merit,  the  god 
remaining  imperturbably  seated  upon  his  intangible 
pedestal  of  poems,  novels,  plays,  history,  and 
criticism,  he  ended  by  declaring  that  Gastibelza 
surpassed  all  Hugo's  other  works.  Here  the  joke 
passed  all  bounds,  and  Verlaine,  in  the  excess  of 
his  truculent  and  mocking  attack,  showed  the  cloven 
hoof  of  the  hoaxer.  Evidently  he  was  jeering  at 
us  not  at  Hugo ;  laughing  up  his  sleeve  at  the 
credulous  naivete1  of  the  young  innovators  of  the 
Quartier  Latin  who  had  already  formed  a  circle 
around  him  in  the  Cafe"  Francois  Premier,  and 
whom  he  treated  as  Hugo  treated  us. 

These  young  men  have  now  made  their  mark. 


380  PAUL  VERLAINE 

Many  of  them  have  quitted  symbolist  literature  for 
grocery  or  Government  employ,  and  have  assuredly 
changed  their  minds  as  to  the  par-excellence  of 
Gastibelza.  This  attempted  destruction  of  the  figure 
of  a  great  man  was  a  pose  and  a  kind  of  sacrilege. 
Verlaine  had  abandoned  himself  to  the  black  mass 
of  poetry.  I  cannot  believe  him  sincere  in  these 
excesses  of  the  intellect.  No  more  importance 
should  be  attached  to  such  an  outbreak,  of  which 
Victor  Hugo's  fame  was  the  momentary  object, 
than  to  the  burlesque  Testament  set  down  by 
Verlaine  in  his  Me'moires  dun  Veuf\ 

"MY   WILL 

"  I  give  nothing  to  the  poor,  because  I  am 
poor  myself. 

"  I  believe  in  God.  PAUL  VERLAINE. 

"  Codicil. — As  regards  my  obsequies,  I  desire 
to  be  conducted  to  the  place  of  final  repose  in  a 
Lesage  cart  ( "  dust-cart "),  and  that  my  remains 
shall  be  deposited  in  the  crypt  of  the  Od£on. 

"As  my  fame  has  never  prevented  any  one 
from  sleeping,  the  choirs  can  sing,  during  the  sad 
ceremony,  to  an  air  of  Gossec's,  the  celebrated  ode 
'  La  France  a  perdu  son  Morphe'e.' 

"Made  in  Paris,  June  1885." 

These  are  merely  spiritual  debauches,  doubtless 
succeeding  to  others,  spirituous. 

The  original  edition  of  Les  Me'moires  dun  Veuf 
is  a  volume  in-i8  of  222  pages.  The  cover  of 
glazed,  greyish  paper  is  surrounded  by  a  design 
in  black,  and  bears  the  following  words  :  Paul 
Verlaine — Les  Mtmoires  dun  Veuf. — Paris.  Le"on 
Vanier,  ekliteur,  19  Quai  Saint-Michel,  1886." 

On  the  half  title  is  the  following  announcement : 


LES  M&M01RES  PUN   VEUF  381 

"  Ouvrages  du  meme  Auteur\  Podsie  :  Po ernes 
Saturniens,  5  fr.  ;  Fetes  galantes,  3  fr.  ;  La  Bonne 
Chanson,  2  fr.  ;  Romances  sans  Paroles,  3  fr.  ;  Jadis 
et  Naguere,  3  fr. 

"  En  Preparation  :  Amour. — Parallelement. 

"  Prose :  Les  Poetes  M audits,  5  fr.  ;  Louise 
Leclercq,  3  fr.  50. 

"Asnieres.  Imprimerie  Louis  Boyer  et  Cie, 
8  Rue  du  Bois." 

Verlaine,  timidly,  having  gradually  accustomed 
himself  to  contact  with  people  and  things  in  the 
Brasserie  Bergere,  where  the  collaborators  of  the 
Re'veil  used  to  assemble,  made  some  appearances 
in  the  Quartier  Latin,  for  which  he  always  had  a 
predilection.  He  was  seen  at  the  Harcourt,  the 
Source,  and  the  Louis  XIII.  He  had  no  circle  of 
disciples  at  that  time ;  Germain  Nouveau  was  his 
most  frequent  companion.  However,  he  met  some 
young  writers,  ardent  fault-finders,  who  published 
a  satirical  newspaper,  exclusively  literary  and  inno- 
vating :  Lutece,  which  betokened  the  dawn  of  sym- 
bolism, and  the  entry  on  the  scene  of  the  Decadents. 

This  new  generation  which  had  grown  up  after 
the  war,  altogether  apart  from  the  authors  and  their 
productions  of  Lemerre's  Parnasse,  treated  Leconte 
de  Lisle,  Heredia,  and  Coppee  with  a  scornful 
irreverence,  considering  as  classics,  out-of-date, 
old  -  fashioned,  the  innovators  of  1 868 !  These 
young  men,  as  is  customary,  attacked  the  preceding 
generation  with  which  they  were  ill  -  acquainted, 
and  had  had  no  opportunity  of  knowing.  There 
was  between  elders  and  youngers  the  gulf  of 
1870.  Consequently,  they  had  espoused  neither 
the  quarrels  nor  the  rancours  of  our  comrades. 
They  did  not  turn  their  backs  on  Verlaine, 


382  PAUL   VERLAINE 

murmuring  hypocritically  tales  of  conjugal  and  legal 
adventures,  travestying  the  facts,  and  interpreting 
in  their  own  fashion  the  Belgian  condemnation. 
They  ignored  such  gossip,  and  if  they  had  known 
of  it  the  accusation  would  have  made  them  smile ; 
might  even  have  recommended  the  object  of  it  to 
their  sympathy,  almost  admiration. 

They  were  equally  ignorant  of  Verlaine.  The 
most  erudite  had  vaguely  heard  of  the  Ffoes 
galantes ;  but  it  was  supposed  that  the  author 
was  dead,  or  had  disappeared,  retired,  become 
extinguished. 

Acquaintances  were  made.  Leo  Trezenik,  who 
was  the  editor-in-chief  of  Lutece,  accepted  some  of 
Verlaine's  poems,  notably  the  famous  Art  Pottique> 
which  he  had  sent  to  me  from  the  prison  of  Mons, 
and  it  attracted  the  attention  of  the  new  poets, 
Tristan  Corbiere,  Laforgue,  and  Viel£  -  Griffin. 
Verlaine  next  gave  to  Lutece  some  essays  on 
writers,  slighted,  ignored,  or  not  in  receipt  of  the 
full  measure  of  fame  to  which,  according  to  him, 
they  had  ample  right.  These  articles  brought 
Verlaine  into  contact  with  the  publisher  Leon 
Vanier.  They  appeared  afterwards  under  the  title 
Les  Poetes  Maudits. 

Les  Poetes  Maudits,  biographies  in  which  there 
is  a  great  deal  of  autobiography,  holds  a  more 
important  place  in  Verlaine's  life  than  in  his  work. 
It  consists  for  the  most  part  of  short  studies  of 
curious  personalities,  poets  more  afflicted  with 
strangeness  than  abuse,  except  the  gentle,  melan- 
choly, and  resigned  Marceline  Desbordes-Valmore, 
who  rather  gave  the  impression,  in  this  circle  of 
wild  lyrists,  of  a  virgin  dropped  into  a  house  of 
debauch.  Quotations  abounded.  Praise,  sometimes 


LES  M6  MO  IRES  PUN   VEUF  383 

hyperbolical,  supplied  the  place  of  criticism,  and 
Verlaine's  personality  peeped  through  the  lightly- 
sketched  silhouettes  of  Tristan  Corbiere,  Arthur 
Rimbaud,  Villiers  de  1'Isle-Adam,  and  Ste"phane 
Mallarme\ 

The  principal  interest  of  these  extra-eulogistic 
notices  for   the   rare   contemporaries  attracted   by 
such    poetic    curiosities,    was    the    production    in 
the   full   light   of  day  of  several  pieces   of  verse 
by  Arthur   Rimbaud,  hitherto  kept  in  the  manu- 
script   obscurity    of    a    portfolio.       Rimbaud    was 
hardly  more   than   a   name.      The   recollection   of 
him  which   remained  in  the  minds  of  those  who 
had  met  him  in  company  with  Verlaine  ten  years 
before    was    confused    and    unsympathetic ;     they 
recalled  extravagances  and  disdainful  poses  which 
the  most  exceptional  talent  could  not  justify.     The 
equivocal  mystery  of  the  struggle  at  Brussels,  with 
the   severe   sentence   following   upon   it,    the   true 
motives  of  which  were  not  known — in  this  book 
the  exact  facts  of  the  case  are  set  forth  for  the 
first  time — surrounded   this   bizarre   figure    with  a 
repellent   atmosphere.     He   had   disappeared,   and 
none   cared   to   know   what   had    become   of  him. 
The    quotations    made   by    Verlaine    were    like   a 
revelation.    The  extraordinary  sonnet  of  the  vowels 
was    reproduced,    commented    upon,    mocked    at, 
admired,  and  by  the  following  day  Rimbaud  was 
celebrated  in  a  corner  of  literary   Paris.     In  this 
notice  no  allusion  was  made  to  the  tragic  events 
which  led  to  the   separation  of  the   two   friends ; 
and  no  explanation  was  given  of  Rimbaud's  conduct 
when  he  renounced  poetry,  burnt  the  copies  of  his 
Saison   en  Enfer,   destroyed  his  manuscripts,  and 
went  in  search  of  fortune  beyond  the  seas. 


384  PAUL  VERLAINE 

Tristan  Corbiere  was  the  author  little  read,  and 
nowadays  almost  entirely  ignored,  of  the  Amours 
Jaunes.  His  biography  is  insignificant.  Some 
quotations  from  his  poems,  curious  rather  by  the 
arrangement  of  the  rhythms  than  by  the  composi- 
tion itself,  on  marine  subjects  in  which  the  drowned, 
of  a  fine  colour,  whom  the  poet  depicts  sinking 
in  their  boots,  and  tossed  without  nails  or  planks 
upon  the  billows,  swelling  like  an  amorous  body, 
gives  piquancy  to  a  rather  insipid  portrait ;  for 
Verlaine  did  not  trouble  to  trace  for  us  recog- 
nisable features  of  his  model.  He  informed  us 
that  he  was  a  Breton,  and  loved  the  sea,  which 
is  little  enough,  and  does  not  convey  a  lasting 
impression  of  this  poet  who  was  not  without  merit, 
and  of  whose  work  one  strange  line  at  least  is 
remembered  and  often  ironically  quoted  :  "  His  sole 
regret  was  that  he  was  not  his  mistress"  —  the 
epitaph  of  one  not  understood,  not  satisfied. 

Villiers  de  I'lsle-Adam  was  a  magnificent  prose 
writer  rather  than  a  poet.  Verlaine  justly  rendered 
homage  to  his  powerful  dramatic  qualities,  quoting 
a  scene  from  his  Nouveau- Monde,  a  drama  written 
for  a  competition  founded  by  a  certain  Michaelis. 
The  piece  was  bracketed  with  another  in  the  second 
place,  four  laureates  being  singled  out  from  the 
multitude  of  competitors  attracted  by  the  prize  in 
kind,  and  the  certainty  of  being  played  in  Paris. 
The  Nouveau-Monde  was  performed  without  much 
success  at  the  Theatre  des  Nations.  The  quota- 
tion given  by  Verlaine  proved  that  Villiers  possessed 
the  art  of  managing  crowds  upon  the  stage,  a  very 
rare  gift,  and  one  which,  since  Shakepeare,  Ibsen 
alone  appears  to  have  had. 

For    Stephane  Mallarme  who  was  to  succeed 


LES  MEMOIRES  HUN   VEUF  385 

him  as  prince  of  poets,  Verlaine  raised  a  triumphal 
pedestal.  Mallarme,  a  little-known  professor  of 
English,  who  gave  his  classes  in  an  intelligible 
manner  and  wrote  in  very  lucid  prose,  became 
obscure  and  often  affected  when  he  touched  verse. 
He  sought  in  darkness  for  phrases  where  others 
seek  in  light,  yet  his  style  is  seductive  and  his 
sibylline  lines  beguile  and  soothe  like  a  musical 
idiom  murmured  by  a  foreign  woman  in  your  ear, 
which  you  divine,  you  feel,  you  listen  to,  but  can 
neither  translate  nor  retain.  He  practised  the 
new  Art  Poe'tique,  the  theory  of  which  was  formu- 
lated by  Verlaine. 

Desbordes  -  Valmore,  whom  Verlaine  quoted 
more  than  he  studied,  and  whose  sentimental 
mystery  he  could  not  explain,  had  always  been 
extolled  by  him  in  spite  of  her  affectation  and  air 
of  singer  of  romances  for  Louis- Philippe  drawing- 
rooms.  He  loved  her  especially  as  a  compatriot, 
one  like  himself.  She  had  been  born  in  the  north 
and  suffered  from  sorrow  of  heart,  which,  like 
him,  she  poured  out  in  melody.  Verlaine  after- 
wards wrote  a  notice  of  himself  under  the  name 
Pauvre  Lelian,  an  anagram  of  Paul  Verlaine.  The 
nickname  clung  to  him  and  he  was  sometimes 
mentioned  by  it  in  kindly  articles.  After  having 
summed  up  various  phases  of  his  existence,  spoken 
of  his  "exceptional"  parents,  recalled  his  school 
days,  and  quoted  his  verse  "  Je  ne  puis  plus 
noter  les  chutes  de  mon  cceur,"  he  named  under 
designations  easy  to  recognise  his  principal  works: 
Mauvaise  Etoile  (the  Po ernes  Saturniens] ;  Pour 
Cythere  (Fetes  galantes) ;  Corbeille  de  Noces  (La 
Bonne  Chanson) ;  and  Sapientia  (Sagesse),  that 

2  B 


386  PAUL  VERLAINE 

murdered  muse  buried  in  Palme"s  cellar;  lastly 
he  spoke  of  the  Poetes  Maudits,  which  he  called 
Les  Incompris.  "  Since  then  Pauvre  Le"lian  has 
produced  a  little  book  of  criticism — oh !  of  criticism 
— of  praise  rather,  in  connection  with  some  slighted 
poets." 

The  original  edition  of  the  Poetes  Maudits  only 
contained  notices  of  Corbiere,  Arthur  Rimbaud, 
and  Mallarme  (1884).  The  second  edition,  in 
1888,  illustrated  with  six  portraits  by  Luque,  con- 
tained, besides  the  notices  already  mentioned,  those 
of  Marceline  Desbordes-Valmore,  Villiers  de  T Isle- 
Adam,  and  Pauvre  Lilian.  Edition  in-i8  of  102 
pages.  L£on  Vanier,  publisher.  Printed  by  Louis 
Boyer  &  Cie.,  of  Asnieres. 

Verlaine  sought  to  turn  his  prose  works  into 
money.  He  knew  that  verses  find  not  only  a 
publisher,  but  a  public,  with  difficulty ;  moreover, 
he  had  become  attracted  towards  remunerative 
prose.  He  had  had  experience  with  the  Paris- 
Vivants  for  the  Reveil,  and  Le*on  Vanier  had  just 
printed  and  paid  him  for  his  Poetes  Maudits.  He 
resolved  to  "place"  copy. 

He  had  in  his  portfolio  articles  which  had  either 
appeared  or  for  some  reason  or  another  not  been 
accepted  by  that  journal.  He  collected  and  com- 
pleted them,  and  sent  them  to  Vanier  under  the 
title  Les  Mdmoires  dun  Veuf.  At  the  same  time 
he  finished  and  sent  to  the  same  publisher  the 
manuscripts  of  Louise  Leclercq  and  Mme.  Aubiny 
and  also  a  collection  of  verse :  Jadis  et  Naguere. 

These  various  works  were  issued  by  Vanier ; 
but  Verlaine  was  no  longer  in  Paris.  He  abruptly 
left  town,  desire  for  the  country  having  again  seized 
hold  of  him.  Once  more  he  turned  agriculturist. 


CHAPTER  XV 

A    SECOND    ATTEMPT    AT    FARMING THE    VOUZIERS 

AFFAIR — FINAL   RETURN    TO    PARIS 

(1883-1885) 

VERLAINE,  without  renouncing  his  pen,  returned 
to  the  country.  He  did  not  warn  any  one  of  his 
new  resolution.  He  accomplished  the  change  in  his 
life  as  if  by  magic.  I  was  expecting  him,  but  he 
did  not  come  ;  I  thought  he  must  be  ill  or  have  gone 
away  on  a  visit.  He  had  spoken  to  me  vaguely 
of  a  return  to  the  country,  and  I  thought,  from  his 
laconic  telegram,  that  he  had  gone  to  his  relatives 
at  Fampoux  or  Paliseul.  I  supposed  he  wanted 
money,  and  that  his  mother  and  he  were  selling 
some  piece  of  land  in  order  to  raise  funds.  They 
had  indeed  done  this,  but  the  money  was  to  serve 
an  immediate  purpose  of  which  I  had  no  inkling. 
The  following  letter  undeceived  me  : 

"REIMS,  StA  October  1883. 

"  This  is  not  to  excuse  my  failing  to  answer  your 
summons  the  other  month,  for  on  the  one  hand 
I  was  too  ill,  and  on  the  other  I  had  telegraphed 
to  you  explaining  it,  but  rather  to  tell  you  that  I 
have  left  Paris  (not  without  the  intention  of  return- 
ing, naturally),  and  am  living  in  the  country  in  a 

387 


388  PAUL  VERLAINE 

house  my  mother  has  recently  bought,  and  that 
when  you  feel  disposed  you  will  be  received  with 
open  arms  at  Mme.  Veuve  Verlaine's,  Coulommes, 
near  Attigny  (Ardennes). 

"Write  to  me  often  in  the  meanwhile.  ...  I 
am  publishing  just  now  a  series  of  articles  in 
Lutece  on  Les  Poetes  M audits  (Corbiere,  Rimbaud, 
Mallarm<£).  I  am  writing  by  this  post  to  Louis 
Dumoulin,  as  I  went  away  without  taking  leave  of 
him  the  day  after  that  on  which  I  was  unfortunately 
unable  to  go  to  Bougival :  I  was  very  unwell  then. 

"  Do  write  to  me  from  time  to  time. 

"  I  am  at  Reims  on  business,  but  am  returning 
to-morrow  to  my  village  not  to  leave  it  often. 
Write!  write!  will  you  not?" 

What  motive  decided  Verlaine  to  make  another 
attempt  at  farming,  after  the  ill  success  of  his 
venture  at  Juniville,  some  miles  from  Coulommes, 
three  years  before? 

The  explanation  is  rather  confusing.  Verlaine 
always  loved  the  country,  as  a  large  number  of  his 
poems,  articles,  and  letters  show,  and  rural  life 
he  especially  delighted  in,  thus  justifying  his  choice 
of  an  agricultural  career ;  but  besides  inclination, 
aptitude,  knowledge,  and  practical  experience  were 
necessary,  all  of  which  he  lacked.  It  was  not  work 
in  the  fields  for  which  he  was  utterly  unsuited  that 
he  really  wanted,  but  vague,  aimless  wanderings 
across  the  wide,  open  country.  He  loved  to  walk 
on  the  springy  turf,  to  feel  the  stubble  crunch 
beneath  his  feet.  On  the  banks  of  the  Semoy  it 
had  pleased  him  to  hold  a  line  in  his  hand,  but 
he  smoked  and  dreamed,  stretched  in  the  shade 
in  some  hollow  of  the  bank,  while  the  fish  more 
often  than  not  escaped.  What  he  appreciated  more 


A  SECOND   ATTEMPT  AT  FARMING        589 

than  anything  in  rustic  life  was  the  freedom  from 
restraint,  the  comfortable  old  clothes,  the  open 
hospitality,  the  talks  in  the  chimney-corner,  and 
the  frequent  halts  at  the  inn  —  that  friend  posted 
at  the  corner  of  the  roads.  The  comfort,  homely 
but  cheerful,  of  the  houses  in  the  village,  with  their 
open  windows  in  the  morning  displaying  bulky 
eiderdowns  and  thick  mattresses  to  the  purifying 
sun,  and  the  health-giving  fresh  air,  seemed  to  him 
desirable  and  delightful  when  he  escaped  from  the 
confinement  of  town. 

But  the  true  son  of  the  soil  does  not  appreciate 
these  benefits  of  country  existence  in  the  least ; 
more  or  less  in  subjection  like  the  serfs  of  old  he 
dreams  of  the  emancipation  of  the  town,  of  shoes 
instead  of  sabots,  of  the  clerk's  black  coat ;  in  an 
ambitious  vision  he  even  sees  himself  in  the  uniform 
of  an  official.  He  knows  nothing  of  the  beauty  of 
the  earth,  the  trees,  the  clouds ;  he  does  not  com- 
prehend the  melancholy  of  the  plains  dotted  by  a 
flight  of  crows.  With  his  poet's  eyes  Verlaine 
could  have  no  peasant's  heart.  He  mistook  his 
vocation  as  farmer ;  he  was  ever  a  visitor  to  the 
fields,  a  townsman  appreciating  his  holidays  in 
the  country,  whose  longing  for  the  soil  does  not 
endure.  He  was  rather  fitted  for  the  monotonous 
existence  of  the  provincial  householder,  and  might 
have  rhymed  sonnets  as  he  watched  the  planting 
of  his  cabbages.  He  could  not  adapt  himself  to 
the  laborious  anxious  life  of  the  farmer,  in  per- 
petual fear  of  rain,  drought,  hail,  disease  among  the 
cattle,  underselling  in  the  markets,  or  rise  and  fall 
in  the  price  of  crops,  to  say  nothing  of  fires,  damage, 
and  bad  debts.  Nevertheless,  his  desire  to  live 


390  PAUL  VERLAINE 

the  life  of  the  fields  is  indisputable.     In  all  sincerity 
he  wrote : 

"  My  idea  has  always  been  to  live  in  the  real 
country,  in  a  village  surrounded  by  fields,  in  a  farm 
of  which  I  should  be  the  proprietor,  and  at  the 
same  time  one  of  the  labourers,  one  of  the  humblest, 
seeing  my  feebleness  and  idleness." 

Such  a  desire  justified  his  first  attempt,  his 
installation  with  his  friend,  Lucien,  at  Juniville ; 
but  the  second  essay,  and  the  acquisition  of  a  new 
home  in  the  country  is  less  intelligible. 

I  confess  I  do  not  thoroughly  understand  his 
abrupt  flight  from  Paris  just  when  he  had  recovered 
his  footing  in  the  literary  world,  formed  a  new  circle 
of  comrades  in  the  caf6s  of  the  Latin  Quartier, 
found  in  the  journal  Lutece  the  commencement  of 
fame,  and  in  the  publisher  Vanier  a  prospect  of 
remuneration.  Doubtless,  it  was  in  a  large  part 
owing  to  his  mother's  influence,  combined  with  a 
precarious  financial  position ;  the  hope  of  obtain- 
ing profits  from  agriculture  perhaps  decided  him  ; 
he  saw  himself  with  money  in  his  pocket,  hitherto 
lacking.  His  mother,  inexorable  in  Paris,  would 
not  refuse  to  her  son  cultivating  his  fields  the 
money  necessary  for  the  absorption  of  the  alcohol, 
the  habit  of  which  he  had  resumed  in  the  Quartier 
Latin. 

Madame  Verlaine  was  as  favourable  to  this 
new  project  of  her  son's  as  she  had  been  to  his 
first  attempt  at  Juniville.  This  time,  she  thought, 
he  would  be  alone  with  nothing  to  distract  him 
from  his  work  in  the  fields.  Paul  became 
perceptibly  more  reasonable.  She,  therefore, 


A  SECOND  ATTEMPT  AT  FARMING        391 

rejoiced  in  this  return  to  the  country  life  she 
esteemed  above  all  others,  coming,  as  she  did, 
of  a  family  of  rural  proprietors.  She  might  have 
preferred  to  live  in  a  country  town,  like  several 
of  her  relatives,  but  she  accepted  the  village. 
She  asked  for  nothing  in  reality  but  to  end  her 
days  in  some  calm  retreat,  her  son  with  her, 
living  comfortably  on  the  small  competency  she 
had  been  able  to  preserve. 

To  have  left  Paris  was  a  great  point  gained. 
She  greatly  feared  the  temptations  of  the  city  for 
her  son,  imagining  he  only  drank  when  within 
its  walls.  No  distrust  of  the  village  inn  had  risen 
in  her  mind  during  the  Juniville  days.  Lucien 
Le'tinois,  a  sober  and  shrewd  rustic,  had  not 
produced  on  her  the  terrible  impression  of  Arthur 
Rimbaud.  The  country  meant  enforced  sobriety, 
regularity  of  life  and  health  for  Paul.  Above  all 
it  meant  a  definite  rupture  with  the  past  orgiaque 
et  melancolique,  of  her  saturnine  son.  Moreover, 
she  respected  the  labour  of  the  fields,  alone  pro- 
ductive and  certain  in  her  eyes.  Her  family  had 
found  a  comfortable  living  in  it,  her  dowry  had 
come  from  the  produce  of  the  soil ;  literary  work 
she  did  not  regard  as  serious,  an  opinion  justified 
by  Paul.  He  had  never  brought  home  any  gains 
since  he  had  left  the  Government  employ ;  the 
few  louis  produced  by  the  Paris-  Vivants  had  been 
carefully  suppressed  by  the  author.  Not  only 
would  her  son  lose  nothing  by  quitting  Paris, 
but  besides  gaining  his  own  living  he  might  even 
be  able  to  save. 

As  to  Verlaine,  he  obeyed  a  feeling  of  lassitude, 
disgust ;  he  wanted  to  put  a  distance  between  him- 


392  PAUL  VERLAINE 

self  and  the  scene  of  his  disappointment.  He  had 
greatly  wished  to  resume  his  place  at  the  Hotel- 
de-Ville;  setting  upon  it  all  his  hopes  of  return 
to  a  calm,  regular,  pleasant  existence,  with  ample 
leisure  for  literary  work,  and  money  coming  in 
at  the  end  of  each  month  with  the  regularity  of 
clockwork. 

I  have  already  spoken  of  the  failure  of  our 
combined  efforts,  in  spite  of  the  influence  of  the 
President  of  the  Council,  the  support  of  Valentin 
Simond,  and  the  consent  of  the  PreTet,  Charles 
Floquet.  Those  in  authority  refused  to  reinstate 
Verlaine  in  the  modest  employment  for  which 
he  had  passed  the  requisite  examinations,  and 
of  which  he  was  thoroughly  capable.  It  was 
a  profound  disappointment  to  him,  and  he  con- 
ceived a  horror  of  Paris  and  the  busy  world,  and 
craved  for  the  silent  fields,  the  limitless  plains, 
the  peaceful  village,  where  forgetting  one  is  by 
the  world  forgot.  He  wanted  to  slip  away,  to 
disappear.  His  choice  of  locality  seems  singular ; 
it  was  the  one  in  which  he  had  lived  with  Lucien 
Le*tinois.  The  country  is  rather  monotonous  and 
melancholy  between  Rethel  and  Vouziers,  but 
it  suited  his  mood,  and  he  may  have  wished 
to  intensify  his  never  flagging  memory  of  his 
friend. 

Verlaine,  too,  was  at  this  period  without  money, 
and  besides  requiring  some  for  his  daily  expenses, 
he  wished  to  print  the  volume  of  verse  he  had 
just  completed,  entitled  Jadis  et  Naguere.  The 
majority  of  the  pieces  in  it  had  been  composed 
in  England,  Belgium,  and  his  cell  at  Mons — a  few 
only  having  been  produced  in  Paris.  But  volumes 


A  SECOND   ATTEMPT  AT  FARMING        393 

of  poetry  are  seldom  issued  at  the  expense  of 
the  publisher,  and  although  Verlaine  afterwards 
obtained  a  little  money  from  Vanier  for  poems 
become  saleable,  thanks  to  the  notoriety  of  the 
author,  at  this  period  his  poetical  works  had  no 
other  public  than  those  to  whom  he  gave  free 
copies.  Sagesse  had  not  found  a  single  buyer. 
Although  Vanier  was  kindly  disposed  to  the  author 
and  promised  to  reprint  it,  and  willingly  published 
Les  Poetes  Maudits,  it  was  doubtful  if  he  would 
meet  the  expense  of  issuing  Jadis  et  Naguere. 

How  was  Verlaine  to  guarantee  the  necessary 
amount  to  the  publisher?  It  is  possible  that 
Madame  Verlaine,  pleased  with  her  son's  retire- 
ment into  the  country,  would  advance  it,  but  I 
am  inclined  to  believe  that  Paul  was  thinking  in 
this  connection  not  only  of  his  mother,  but  of 
Le'tinois's  father ;  not  that  the  countryman  was 
likely  to  prove  a  benevolent  lender,  but  Verlaine 
was  probably  attracted  to  him  by  the  hope  of 
effecting  a  good  stroke  of  business  in  buying  his 
house  at  Coulommes. 

It  was,  in  fact,  Le'tinois's  house  that  Madame 
Verlaine  bought.  As  will  be  remembered  the 
cunning  rustic  had,  on  the  death  of  his  son,  sold 
the  house  at  Juniville  without  passing  on  a  penny 
of  the  price  to  the  real  owner,  and  it  is  probable 
that  Verlaine  sought  to  reimburse  himself  for  this 
loss  by  taking  over  the  property  at  Coulommes, 
consisting  of  house,  outbuildings,  yard,  and  garden, 
on  behalf  of  his  mother,  for  the  sum  of  3,500  francs. 

Verlaine  and  his  mother  thus  commenced  the 
peaceful  and  laborious  life  amidst  the  fields  of  which 
they  had  dreamed ;  but  the  realisation  of  dreams 


394  PAUL  VERLAINE 

is  a  difficult  matter,  and  the  new  essay  in  farming 
did  not  succeed.  Debts  came,  and  with  them 
quarrels  between  mother  and  son.  Verlaine  was 
wholly  in  the  wrong.  Contrary  to  the  expecta- 
tion of  his  mother  he  had  begun  to  drink  again 
terribly.  Moreover,  he  had  fallen  in  with  a  band  of 
roystering  young  rustics,  who  kept  up  their  revels 
far  into  the  night,  and  separated  at  an  advanced 
hour,  singing  and  brawling,  to  the  great  scandal 
of  the  village.  Money  soon  became  lacking,  and 
Verlaine  imperiously  demanded  it  of  his  mother. 
Discussion  ensued,  he  being  often  inflamed  with 
drink. 

At  last  (in  April  1884),  for  the  sake  of  peace, 
yielding  to  the  importunities  of  her  son,  and 
doubtless,  also,  in  order  to  be  able  to  evade  the 
expense  and  results  of  various  actions,  occasioned 
by  disputes  with  neighbouring  farmers  and  trades- 
men, Madame  Verlaine  made  over  the  property 
of  Coulommes  to  her  son.  The  deed  contained 
a  clause  prohibiting  seizure,  and  thus  assured  a 
dwelling  to  Verlaine  in  spite  of  his  various 
creditors.  Paul  continued  his  evil  courses  during 
the  whole  of  1884. 

Mme.  Verlaine  had  a  neighbour  at  Coulommes, 
named  Dane,  who  was  not  favourably  disposed 
towards  the  poet.  He  advised  Mme.  Verlaine, 
since  she  could  not  prevent  her  son  from  drinking 
and  spending  his  money  on  the  riff-raff  of  the 
village,  and  similar  companions  come  expressly 
from  Paris  at  his  invitation,  to  separate  herself 
from  him.  After  a  more  violent  quarrel  than 
usual,  accompanying  an  urgent  demand  for  money, 
Mme.  Verlaine  determined  to  follow  M.  Dane's 


THE   VOUZIERS   AFFAIR  395 

advice,  and  intimated  to  her  son  that  she  would 
no  longer  live  under  the  same  roof  with  him ; 
immediately  putting  her  resolution  into  force,  and 
retiring  to  the  shelter  offered  her  by  her  zealous 
friend.  Her  age,  seventy-five  years,  precluded  any 
evil  interpretation  of  such  hospitality,  nevertheless, 
Verlaine  accused  him  on  several  occasions  of 
having  exercised  an  undue  influence  over  the 
mind  of  his  mother,  enfeebled  by  age  and  mis- 
fortune, in  order  to  wring  from  her  her  small 
remaining  fortune. 

In  consequence  of  these  events  Verlaine  went 
to  Paris  on  the  Qth  February  1885  and  stayed  at 
Austin's  Hotel,  an  English  tavern.  The  whisky 
and  stout  doubtless  attracted  him,  for  it  was  not 
his  ordinary  resort.  As  a  rule  when  he  visited 
Paris  in  connection  with  publishing  business  he 
lodged  with  Courtois,  a  wine  and  tobacco  merchant 
at  No.  5  Rue  de  la  Roquette.  When  he  left 
Coulommes  he  was  probably  under  the  influence 
of  drink,  and  certainly  he  was  not  in  his  right 
mind,  and  had  lost  all  sense  of  moderation  and 
duty  when  he  quitted  the  hotel  on  the  following 
day  to  return  to  Coulommes. 

Thus  on  the  1 1  th  February  came  to  pass  a 
scene  for  ever  to  be  regretted,  which  I  would 
gladly  efface  from  Verlaine's  life  and  not  mention 
in  this  work,  but  I  judge  its  inclusion  necessary, 
first  because  it  is  an  important  fact  in  the  life  of 
the  poet,  as  he  himself  recognised  in  his  book 
Mes  Prisons,  and,  secondly,  because  if  the  affair 
at  Vouziers  is  not  clearly  narrated,  it  is  likely  to 
be  misrepresented  and  exaggerated,  and  afford  an 
opening  for  calumny  like  the  affair  at  Brussels. 


396  PAUL  VERLAINE 

These,  then,  are  the  facts  in  all  their  distressing 
exactitude  : 

On  the  nth  February  1885  Verlaine  went  back  to 
Coulommes,  hoping  his  mother  would  have  regretted 
her  determination,  and,  pardoning  him  once  more, 
return  home.  His  disappointment  was  therefore 
great  on  finding  the  house  empty,  and  his  irritation 
grew.  Some  meetings,  on  the  way  home,  accom- 
panied by  the  inevitable  drinks,  had  excited  his  anger. 
He  was  told  that  Dane  preferred  a  hundred  accusa- 
tions against  him,  defamed  him,  and  boasted  of 
having  cut  off  his  supplies  ;  Mme.  Verlaine  having 
promised  not  to  give  him  another  sous,  nor  to  sign 
another  paper  without  his,  Dane's  permission  and 
presence.  In  this  state  of  excitement,  acting  under 
the  double  spur  of  alcohol  and  humiliation,  he  went 
to  Dane's,  where  he  knew  he  should  find  his  mother, 
and  a  confused  conversation  broken  by  complaints, 
apostrophes,  reproaches,  insults,  and  threats  took 
place  between  mother  and  son,  at  which  Dane  was 
present.  He  made  no  attempt  to  calm  Verlaine, 
nor  to  arrange  matters,  and  gain  time.  He  ought 
to  have  persuaded  the  poet  to  return  home  and  rest, 
and  on  the  following  day,  sobered  and  tranquillised, 
he  could  have  reiterated  his  demands  for  money, 
and  begged  his  mother  to  return  home  with  him. 

But  things  turned  out  more  tragically.  Verlaine 
forgot  himself  so  far  in  his  excitement  as  to  raise 
his  hand  against  his  mother — so  Dane  asserted  in 
court.  Mme.  Verlaine  herself  declared  that  her 
son  had  subjected  her  to  no  evil  treatment,  but 
the  judge  preferred  the  testimony  of  Verlaine's 
personal  enemy  —  for  this  domestic  quarrel  was 
brought  into  court.  Dane  had  called  in  the  police, 


THE   VOUZIERS   AFFAIR  397 

who  came  from  Attigny  to  Coulommes  to  investigate 
the  matter,  and  it  had  gone  too  far  to  be  stopped. 
This  would  seem  to  indicate  the  influence  of  Dane 
and  Mme.  Verlaine's  dependence  upon  him,  for  I 
who  had  known  the  excellent  woman  for  thirty 
years,  and  been  a  continual  witness  to  not  only 
her  love  but  her  indulgence  to  her  son,  cannot 
believe  that  she  was  a  free  agent  when  she  con- 
sented to  her  well-beloved  Paul  being  the  object 
of  a  legal  enquiry  for  lack  of  respect  to  her.  Left 
to  herself,  she  would  have  suffered  and  wept  in 
silence  over  his  evil  doings,  and  never  have 
delivered  him  over  to  justice.  For  a  violent  and 
intemperate  demand  for  money,  even  a  threat, 
she  was  incapable  of  bringing  down  upon  his  head 
a  sentence  of  imprisonment  for  from  two  to  five 
years !  Her  deposition  itself  bears  evidence  that  it 
was  suggested,  exceeded  her  wishes,  and  exagger- 
ated her  complaints. 

The  court  sitting  at  Vouziers,  although  it 
referred  to  the  aforesaid  penalty,  did  not  go  so  far 
as  to  pronounce  it. 

The  case  came  on  on  24th  March  1885. 

The  accusation  reproached  Verlaine  with  having 
used  violence  towards  the  person  of  Elisa  Dehee, 
particularly  in  pressing  her  wrists  to  the  point  of 
making  her  cry  out,  and,  moreover,  with  having  in 
the  same  circumstances  menaced  the  said  dame 
with  death  if  she  did  not  give  him  money.  The 
accusation  added  that  the  accused  was  holding  an 
open  knife  in  his  hand  at  the  time. 

Verlaine  interrogated,  began  by  protesting  his 
affection  and  respect  for  his  mother.  He  exhibited 
a  deep  repentance  for  everything  that  might  have 


398  PAUL   VERLAINE 

offended  her  in  the  scene  which  had  led  to  the 
prosecution.  He  contested  the  gravity  of  the  facts 
with  which  he  was  reproached,  and  endeavoured  to 
reduce  them  to  more  exact  proportions. 

He  recognised  that  on  the  day  in  question  he 
was  excited  by  drink,  and  in  such  a  state  might 
have  solicited  his  mother  rather  too  violently  for 
the  money  of  which  he  had  urgent  need  by  reason 
of  a  law-suit  and  other  engagements.  He  declared 
that  he  had  no  recollection  of  having  threatened 
nor  insulted  his  mother.  If  such  unhappily  had 
been  the  case,  he  had  uttered  the  insults  and 
threats  under  the  influence  of  drink  without  know- 
ing what  he  said.  He  denied  having  drawn  a 
knife  from  his  pocket.  One  witness  alone  asserted 
this  aggravating  fact,  and  that  witness  was  his 
personal  enemy,  M.  Dane. 

He  might  in  his  anger  have  menaced  the  latter, 
for  it  was  against  him  that  he  was  animated  by 
violent  sentiments.  He  reproached  him  for  abusing 
his  influence  over  his  mother,  and  of  having  induced 
her  to  come  to  his  house,  in  order  to  inveigle  her 
confidence  and  seize  hold  of  her  property.  He 
also  accused  him  of  having  slandered  him  through- 
out the  whole  neighbourhood,  and  of  having  boasted 
that  he  would  make  him  leave  the  country  and  take 
possession  of  his  house.  He  confessed  that  he  was 
wrong  in  frequently  drinking  to  excess,  but  stated 
that  he  had  been  driven  into  drunkenness  by  the 
annoyances  of  every  kind  he  had  endured  at  the 
hands  of  his  mother's  adviser.  In  spite  of  all  the 
respect  he  owed  her,  and  the  affection  he  felt  for 
her,  he  must  advise  the  court  that  his  mother's 
faculties  were  enfeebled,  and  that  she  allowed  her- 


THE   VOUZIERS  AFFAIR  399 

self  to  be  entirely  dominated  and  directed  by  this 
Dane,  who  had  resolved  to  obtain  possession  of  her 
little  fortune  and  separate  her  for  ever  from  her  son. 
These  simple  and  dignified  statements,  and 
his  evident  repentance,  clearly  testifying  to  his 
respectful  affection  for  his  mother,  produced  a 
favourable  effect  in  court.  Mme.  Verlaine's 
deposition  was  excellent.  She  declared  that  her 
son  "had  always  acted  becomingly  towards  her" 
— the  expression  considered  suitable  in  a  court  of 
law — until  their  arrival  at  Coulommes.  Since  his 
residence  in  that  village  Paul's  character  had 
changed.  He  drank  and  frequented  those  of 
dissipated  and  idle  habits.  She  added :  "I  have 
nothing  to  reproach  him  with  on  the  score  of  bad 
treatment.  He  may  have  caused  me  to  spend 
money,  but  he  has  never  taken  any  from  me." 
She  said  nothing  of  any  knife  having  been  raised 
against  her,  and  attributed  her  son's  misconduct 
to  his  evil  companions  and  alcoholic  excess. 

I  am  ignorant  of  M.  Boileau's  speech  in  the 
defence,  but  I  suppose  it  was  able,  for  he  obtained 
almost  an  acquittal ;  but  he  could  not  plead,  as  it 
should  have  been  pleaded,  the  cause  of  the  neurotic 
poet,  exposed  to  the  calumnies  and  malignity 
of  the  villagers.  He  could  neither  comprehend 
nor  make  the  Ardennaise  magistrates  comprehend 
Verlaine  as  he  really  was.  They  judged  the  author 
of  Sagesse  as  an  ordinary  drunkard,  who  had  fought 
with  his  relatives  over  a  question  of  money  one 
evening  after  a  prolonged  visit  to  the  inn.  Such 
quarrels  are  frequent  in  villages,  and  rarely  come 
before  the  courts,  but  are  arranged,  if  need  be,  by 
a  justice  of  the  peace. 


400  PAUL   VERLAINE 

What  principally  led  to  Paul  Verlaine's  condem- 
nation by  the  judges  of  Vouziers  was  the  hostility 
displayed  against  him  by  his  neighbours.  He  had 
shocked  and  irritated  them  by  his  ways,  which  it 
must  be  admitted  were  out  of  the  ordinary.  He 
did  not  even  drink  like  others.  His  drunkenness 
was  of  an  exuberant  character,  noisy  and  aggressive, 
and  disconcerted  the  habitual  topers  of  the  district. 
Between  two  glasses  he  would  hold  ill  -  advised 
conversations,  often  incomprehensible  to  his  peasant 
associates,  and  therefore  regarded  with  suspicion. 
The  country  people,  no  worse  than  others,  could 
not  sympathise  with  this  poet  of  eccentric  behaviour, 
who  mixed  himself  up  with  farming  affairs,  of 
which  he  knew  nothing.  Why  had  he  come  to 
Coulommes,  this  wicked  Parisian?  Why  had  he 
not  remained  in  that  town,  the  inhabitants  of 
which  are  too  polite  to  be  honest?  Vaguely  he 
assumed  in  their  unfriendly  gossip  the  similitude 
of  one  who  sought  to  steal  land,  and  they  banded 
together  against  him,  as  against  a  foreign  invader. 
Thus  all  the  witnesses  were  on  Dane's  side, 
desiring  in  their  hearts  to  get  rid  of  the  Parisian, 
and  keep  his  house  after  the  fashion  of  their 
neighbour  L6tinois. 

It  is  therefore  to  be  remarked,  for  an  exact 
appreciation  of  Verlaine's  offence  that  it  was  estab- 
lished by  openly  hostile  witnesses ;  exaggerated 
rumours,  and  the  inquisitive  and  uncharitable 
observation  of  unsympathetic  people  giving  rise 
to  suppositions,  which  received  an  appearance  of 
reality  from  Verlaine's  language  and  manners. 
Besides  which  the  reports  concerning  him  from 
Paris  and  Belgium  were  not  of  a  nature  likely 


THE   VOUZIERS   AFFAIR  401 

to  bias  his  judges  in  his  favour.  Therefore  the 
sentence  of  a  month's  imprisonment  may  be  re- 
garded as  a  quasi-acquittal,  considering  the  penalties 
attaching  to  the  offence  preferred  against  him. 
There  is  no  excuse  for  Verlaine's  conduct  to  his 
mother,  still  it  must  be  recognised  that  it  was  not 
an  affair  of  great  moment,  but  rather  one  for  settle- 
ment at  home  by  a  sharp  maternal  reprimand  to 
Verlaine  sober. 

The  poet  was  released  on  the  1 3th  May,  quitting 
the  gaol  at  Vouziers,  of  which  he  has  left  a  sketch 
both  in  Les  Mtmoires  d'un  Veuf  ("  Un  He'ros"), 
and  in  Mes  Prisons,  one  fine  spring  morning.  No 
one  was  awaiting  him  on  this  occasion,  no  friendly 
face  greeted  him  with  smiles  as  the  door  of  the 
gaol  opened.  Mme.  Verlaine,  her  heart  lacerated, 
although  she  had  long  ago  freely  forgiven  him,  had 
determined  against  the  journey  to  Vouziers  to  meet 
her  son.  She  remembered  not  with  resentment  but 
with  sorrow  the  scene  at  Coulommes,  and  intended 
to  punish  the  heedless  and  impulsive  rake  by  her 
absence.  Besides,  which  partly  justified  Verlaine's 
irritation,  her  adviser,  M.  Dane,  had  dissuaded  her 
from  going  to  meet  Paul. 

Nothing  could  have  touched  him  to  the  quick 
like  this  marked  absence.  He  understood  the 
punishment  the  one  always  indulgent  intended  to 
inflict  upon  him,  and  he  at  once  determined  to 
appear  utterly  indifferent.  His  freedom  brought 
with  it  liberty  to  drink  of  which  he  would  make 
use  on  the  spot.  Dame !  it  is  pleasant  to  drink 
on  a  holiday,  but  company  is  precious  to  those  just 
come  from  captivity.  With  whom  should  he  crack 
a  glass  to  independence  reconquered?  Par b leu / 

2    C 


402  PAUL   VERLAINE 

with  the  companion  who  was  there  on  the  threshold  : 
the  gaoler  who  had  drawn  the  bolts  and  jingled 
his  keys  as  he  politely  conducted  to  the  exit  the 
ex-prisoner  with  whom  he  was  on  friendly  terms. 
Verlaine  invited  him,  and  they  went  to  empty  a 
bottle  of  white  wine  at  the  "  Bon  Coin,"  the  usual 
resort  of  the  staff  of  the  prison. 

This  libation  in  the  open  air  consoled  the  poet 
for  the  moment.  But  the  gaoler  was  obliged  to 
return  to  his  duties,  and  Paul  remained  alone,  face 
to  face  with  a  bottle.  He  pondered  over  what  he 
should  do.  Ought  he  to  go  to  Coulommes,  demand 
pardon  of  his  mother,  throw  himself  at  her  feet 
and  embrace  her?  It  would  be  very  melodramatic, 
and  he  would  be  the  laughing-stock  of  the  village. 
Then,  again,  where  must  he  go  to  find  her  ?  To 
his  enemy's,  he  who  had  delivered  him  to  justice  ? 
He  could  not  go  there,  besides  his  mother  had 
written  to  him  that  she  intended  to  return  to  Paris 
shortly.  Country  life,  naturally,  had  lost  all  its 
charm.  The  evil  reputation  of  her  son  reflected 
injuriously  upon  the  unfortunate  mother,  who  found 
herself  shunned. 

Moreover,  the  judicial  position  was  becoming 
grave.  Some  law-suits  had  been  lost,  their  credit 
was  dead,  and  Verlaine  no  longer  possessed  even 
the  house  which  his  mother  had  given  him,  having 
sold  it  to  a  local  farmer,  after  the  miserable  scene 
which  led  to  the  prosecution,  for  the  sum  of 
2,200  francs.  The  house  is  still  in  existence  at 
Coulommes,  the  property  of  Mme.  Rigot  Oudin, 
widow  of  the  aforesaid  buyer. 

Verlaine,  therefore,  returned  to  Paris  to  take 
up  his  life  there  afresh,  relinquishing  the  charm 


FINAL   RETURN  TO   PARIS  403 

of  the  fields.  He  determined  to  set  to  work  and 
live  by  his  pen  —  a  praiseworthy  resolution ;  but 
unhappily  he  came  back  from  the  country  ill- 
equipped  for  the  endeavour.  He  was  nearly 
ruined,  and  his  mother,  impoverished  and  saddened, 
who  followed  him,  had  not  her  former  ability  to 
assist  him.  Worse  still,  gout  had  begun  to  seize 
hold  of  Verlaine.  His  muscles  atrophied,  his  joints 
grew  stiff.  If  his  brain  remained  healthy  and 
vigorous,  his  aptitude  for  work,  never  very  con- 
siderable, had  diminished,  Even  his  talent  had 
undergone  a  perceptible  alteration.  A  few  years 
more  of  Bohemian  life  in  the  Quartier  Latin,  and 
the  admirable  poetic  vein  of  his  youth  that  had 
produced  Sagesse,  Amour,  and  Bonheur  would 
dwindle  and  change.  The  return  of  the  poet  to 
Paris  in  1885  marks  the  beginning  of  the  third 
and  most  wretched  stage  of  his  life,  sojourns  in 
hospitals  alternating  with  stagnation  in  drinking- 
shops,  and  soon  the  great,  powerful,  genial  Paul 
Verlaine  would  be  nothing  more  than  the  "  Poor 
Ldian  "  of  legendary  destitution. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

JADIS   ET  NAGU&RE  —  MRS   HOPITAUX  —  DEATH    OF 
VERLAINE'S  MOTHER  —  IN  HOSPITAL  —  AMOUR— 


(1885-1890) 

WHILE  living  in  his  Ardennaise  village,  "laughing, 
drinking,  and  singing,"  Verlaine  had  now  and  then 
endeavoured  to  re  -  animate  his  somewhat  torpid 
muse.  He  arranged  for  a  new  volume,  and  collected 
together  some  fragments,  previously  composed,  with 
the  idea  of  their  publication  with  Vanier.  Soon 
after  his  settlement  at  Coulommes  his  volume  Jadis 
et  Naguere  appeared.  He  advised  me  of  the  fact 
in  the  following  undated  note  : 

"  COULOMMES. 

*  MY  DEAR  EDMOND,  —  A  volume  of  mine  has 
just  been  published,  Jadis  et  Naguere^  by  Vanier, 
19  Quai  Saint  -  Michel.  One  of  the  poems  is 
dedicated  to  you,  Le  Soldat  Laboureur  (alias  Le 
Grognard]  you  will  speak  of  it,  won't  you?  and 
send  the  article  to  your  P.  VERLAINE." 

Jadis  et  Naguere  is  a  collection  of  verse  written 
some  years  before  publication.  Several  of  the 
pieces  classed  together  under  the  sub-title,  A  la 
Maniere  de  Plusieurs,  were  sent  me  from  his  Belgian 
prison,  where  they  had  been  composed.  A  certain 

404 


A 


X 


§    x 


JADIS  ET  NAGU&RE 


405 


number  date  from  an  earlier  period,  for  instance, 
Le  Grognard,  afterwards  entitled  Le  Soldat 
Laboureur,  was  written  in  1869.  The  actor, 
Frances,  recited  this  poem,  which  was  at  once  a 
satire  and  a  eulogy  of  the  old  army,  one  evening 
at  Nina  de  Callias's.  It  was  a  sort  of  reply  to 
Coppee's  Benediction,  recited  by  the  same  artist 
in  the  same  salon. 

There  are  in  the  book,  which  is  one  of  Verlaine's 
most  interesting  volumes,  poems  written  in  accord- 
ance with  each  of  his  styles,  and  suitable  for 
inclusion  in  his  previous  collections. 

Thus  Images  dun  Sou  seems  like  a  leaf  escaped 
from  the  Fetes  galantes  : 

"  .  .  .  Voici  Damon  qui  soupire 
La  tendresse  a  Genevieve 
De  Brabant,  qui  fait  ce  reve 
D'exercer  un  chaste  empire, 
Dont  elle-meme  se  pame 
Sur  la  veuve  de  Pyrame, 
Tout  expres  ressuscitee  ..." 

Fantoches  is  like  a  pleasing  mocking  echo,  in 
which  the  poet  projects  against  the  moon  the 
gesticulating  shadows  of  Scaramouche  and  Pulci- 
nella,  while  the  excellent  Doctor  Bolonais  below 
slowly  gathers  simples  among  the  brown  grass. 
This  poem  is  contemporary,  by  reason  of  its 
character,  composition,  and  colouring,  with  the 
strange  lines  in  the  Romances  sans  Paroles : 

"  Cest  le  chien  de  Jean  de  Nivelle 
Qui  moid,  sous  1'ceil  meme  du  guet, 
Le  chat  de  la  Mere  Michel ; 
Francois  les  Bas-Bleus  s'en  e"gaie  ..." 

Some  of  the  poems  in  the  book  were  composed 


406  PAUL   VERLAINE 

before  Verlaine's  first  wanderings  in  Belgium  and 
England ;  the  highly  coloured  description  of 
LAuberge,  for  example,  might  be  included  among 
the  Paysages  Beiges  of  the  Romances.  Other 
verses  date  from  the  poet's  earliest  youth,  like 
La  Pucelle,  a  sonnet,  of  which  I  have  the  original 
pencilled  manuscript,  composed  in  1862,  when 
Verlaine  was  at  the  Lycee  Bonaparte. 

Some  belong  to  the  same  period  as  the  Poemes 
Saturniens,  and  are  in  the  author's  objective  and 
descriptive  style. 

Among  the  sonnets  in  the  part  of  the  volume 
entitled  Jadis,  there  are  some  of  great  beauty, 
elevated  philosophy,  and  superb  workmanship  like 
Le  Squelette,  which  might  be  placed  side  by  side 
with  Baudelaire's  La  Barque  de  Don  Juan ;  and 
there  are  other  short  and  purely  descriptive  poems, 
rivalling  in  clearness  of  touch  the  most  polished 
productions  of  Theophile  Gautier  and  Leconte  de 
Lisle. 

Descriptive  poems  (La  Princesse  Be're'nice}, 
humorous  (Kaleidoscope,  Dizain  mil  Huit  Cent 
Trente,  le  Pitre),  realistic  (La  Soupe  du  Soir.Paysage, 
PAube  a  fEnvers),  legendary,  and  narrative,  go  to 
make  up  this  volume,  which  sums  up  the  entire 
range  of  Verlaine's  inspiration  and  style.  The 
poem  Les  Vaincus,  with  its  epic  character,  belongs 
to  the  same  category  as  the  Ode  a  Metz ;  it  is 
a  tribute  to  the  victims  of  the  civil  war,  calling 
for  fierce  reprisals,  and  was  composed  in  London 
in  1872.  Probably  the  pusillanimity  of  Vermersch, 
one  of  the  refugees  of  the  Commune,  helped  to 
inspire  Verlaine  to  this  bitter  cry  of  despair,  which 
recalls  Alfred  de  Vigny's  Mort  du  Loup  : 


JADIS  ET  NAGU&RE  407 

"  Et  nous,  que  la  deroute  a  fait  survivre,  helas  ! 
Les  pieds  meurtris,  les  yeux  troubles,  la  tete  lourde, 
Saignants,  veules,  fangeux,  deshonores  et  las, 
Nous  allons,  etouffant  mal  une  plainte  sourde." 

Later  on  he  conjures  up  a  terrible  vision  of 
pitiless  justice  and  unbridled  vengeance. 

It  may  be  said  that  in  Jadis  et  Naguere,  the 
seven  cords  of  the  lyre  sound,  vibrate,  mutter, 
sigh,  murmur,  menace,  and  sing.  It  is  not 
Verlaine's  most  perfect  volume,  and  many  of  the 
pieces  of  which  it  is  composed  were  severely 
omitted  by  him  from  the  MSS.  of  previous  volumes  ; 
they  did  not  satisfy  the  poet,  and  appeared  to  him 
to  require  further  consideration  and  polishing. 
He  discovered  imitations  among  them,  and  these 
he  grouped  together  under  the  ingenuous  sub-title : 
A  la  Maniere  de  Plusieurs.  In  short  the  poems, 
diverse  in  tone,  character,  subject,  and  inspiration, 
which  make  up  this  volume,  give  it  the  appearance 
of  a  collection  of  selected  pieces,  and  it  was  very 
well  received,  and  regarded  as  very  interesting 
when  it  was  presented  to  the  public  by  the 
publisher  Charpentier. 

As  if  in  justification  of  the  composite  and  antho- 
logical  character  of  the  book,  there  is  included  in 
it  a  little  play,  Les  Uns  et  les  Autres,  a  poetic  and 
delicate  lover's  quarrel,  like  an  echo  of  de  Musset 
and  Moliere,  set  in  a  scene  by  Banville,  a  f£te 
galante  adapted  for  the  stage. 

After  it  had  been  played  it  was  published 
separately  as  an  ordinary  dramatic  booklet  in-i8, 
36  pages,  with  a  pale  bluish  cover,  on  which  was 
printed :  "  Paul  Verlaine. — Les  Uns  et  les  Autres, 
comedie  en  un  acte  et  en  vers.  Represented 


408  PAUL  VERLAINE 

pour  la  premiere  fois  ail  theatre  du  Vaudeville,  par 
les  soins  du  Theatre  d'Art,  le  21  Mai  1891. — Paris, 
Le"on  Vanier,  libraire-e'diteur,  19,  Quai  Saint-Michel, 
1891. — Evreux,  Imprimerie  de  Charles  He"rissey." 
On  the  half  title  :  "Les  Uns  et  les  Autres>  come'die 
de'die'e  a  Theodore  de  Banville." 

Copies  were  sent  to: — MM.  Krauss,  of  the 
Ode* on ;  Paul  Franck,  of  the  Gymnase  ;  Engel,  of 
the  Opera ;  Albert  Girault  and  Henri  Huot,  of  the 
Theatre  d'Art;  Mmes.  Moreno,  of  the  Comedie- 
Frangaise ;  Lucy  Gerard,  of  the  Gymnase  ;  Suzanne 
Gay  and  Denise  Ahmers,  of  the  Theatre  d'  Art. 

Les  Uns  et  les  Autres  was  only  played  once,  not 
that  the  piece  was  a  failure,  but  its  performance 
was  an  exceptional  affair  and  could  not  be  repeated, 
at  least  at  the  Vaudeville.  The  theatre  was  taken 
for  a  matinee  by  the  young  enthusiasts  of  the 
Theatre  d'Art,  and  the  affair  was  managed  by 
M.  Paul  Fort. 

The  performance  was  organised  by  subscription, 
the  price  of  the  stalls  being  20  francs,  at  least  that 
is  what  I  paid,  and  I  suppose,  as  the  notices  stated, 
there  were  no  free  tickets.  It  was  for  the  benefit  of 
Paul  Verlaine  and  the  unfortunate  painter  of  Tahiti, 
Gauguin.  The  curtain  raiser  was  Le  Corbeau, 
Edgar  Poe's  poem  translated  into  prose  by 
Mallarm£,  the  tragedian  Damoye  interpreting  the 
melancholy  and  despairing  visionary  of  the  poem. 
This  was  followed  by  Le  Soleil  de  Minuit  by 
Catulle  Mendes,  the  scenery  and  very  costly  dresses 
of  which  absorbed  the  greater  part  of  the  receipts. 
Indeed,  although  the  artists  gave  their  services, 
after  all  the  expenses  of  staging,  lighting,  printing, 
posters,  etc.,  to  say  nothing  of  cabs,  cigars,  and 


JADIS  ET  NAGU&RE  409 

drinks  for  the  members  of  the  committee,  had  been 
paid,  nothing  remained  for  the  two  who  were  to 
benefit  by  the  entertainment. 

I  found  Verlaine  during  the  performance  in  the 
little  American  cafe  leading  out  of  the  vestibule. 
Wearied  and  disgusted,  he  was  absorbing  heady 
liquors,  and  pouring  out  angry  sarcastic  complaints 
against  the  organisation  of  what  he  called  his 
matifice.  I  pacified  him  as  well  as  I  could,  and 
remained  with  him  till  the  end  of  the  programme, 
which  ought  to  have  brought  in  a  good  deal  if  the 
too  costly  dresses  of  the  Soldi  de  Minuit  had  had 
the  success  they  merited. 

Verlaine  was  preparing  Les  Mtmoires  (fun  Veuf, 
Louise  Leclercq,  and  some  biographies  for  publica- 
tion in  the  Hommes  dAujour&hui,  when  an  attack 
of  gout  confined  him  to  his  bed,  and  he  caused 
himself  to  be  transported  to  the  hospital  at  Tenon. 
This  was  his  first  experience  in  a  hospital.  He 
was  afterwards  to  become  acquainted  with  several 
others,  and  grew  to  regard  them  as  hotels  in  which 
lodging  was  to  be  had  gratis,  and  with  far  more 
comfort  attached  to  it  than  was  the  case  in  the 
furnished  apartments  in  the  Quartier  Latin,  which 
formed  his  temporary  abiding-places. 

He  was  grateful  to  "his  hospitals,"  speaking  of 
them  as  a  landowner  speaks  of  "his  lands,"  where, 
quitting  the  town,  he  enjoys  repose  and  recuperates 
his  strength.  He  devoted  to  them,  as  to  "his 
prisons,"  a  book  full  of  kindliness,  tinged  occasion- 
ally with  a  rather  bitter  pleasantry,  but  with  no 
peevish  complaints  against  the  staff,  the  doctors, 
nor  the  management.  He  was  cared  for  very 
tenderly  in  several  of  these  asylums,  and  never 


410  PAUL   VERLAINE 

exhibited  any  grievance  against  the  assistance 
publique  often  attacked  with  reason. 

One  exception,  however,  must  be  mentioned  : 
an  attendant  named  Grandmaison,  who  treated  him 
with  harshness,  even  brutality,  but  received  the 
punishment  he  deserved,  for  the  usually  forgiving 
Verlaine  addressed  an  "  invective"  to  him. 

This  was  the  sole  occasion  on  which  Verlaine 
uttered  a  word  of  censure  in  connection  with  his 
hospital  life.  At  the  end  of  his  little  book,  Mes 
Hopitaux,  he  testified  his  gratitude  to  those  who  had 
cared  for  him,  and,  not  being  able  to  cure  him,  had 
rendered  his  malady  supportable,  and  addressed 
the  following  greeting  to  the  hospitals  in  which 
he  had  stayed  : 


Hopitaux  .  .  .  adieu!  if  not,  au  revoir\ 
...  I  have  lived  quietly,  laboriously  within  your 
walls,  quitting  you  one  after  other  not  without  regret, 
and  if  my  dignity  as  a  man,  hardly  less  miserable 
than  the  most  sadly  destitute  of  your  frequenters, 
and  my  just  instinct  as  a  good  citizen,  not  wishing 
to  usurp  the  places  envied  by  many  poor  people, 
often  hurried  me  forth  prematurely  from  your  doors, 
blessed  both  to  those  who  arrive  and  to  those  who 
go  out,  be  assured,  kind  hospitals,  that  in  spite  of 
all  the  inevitable  monotony,  the  necessarily  strict 
rules,  and  the  inconveniences  inherent  in  every 
human  situation,  I  retain  a  recollection  of  you 
unique  among  many  other  remembrances  infinitely 
more  painful,  that  life  has  had  and  will  have  for 
me  doubtless  always." 

Picturesque  descriptions,  recollections,  reflec- 
tions on  books,  and  autobiographical  details  form 
the  substance  of  the  seventy-five  pages  of  this 


DEATH   OF   VERLAINE'S   MOTHER  411 

volume  published  by  Leon  Vanier  in  1891,  with 
a  very  successful  and  life-like  portrait  by  F.-A. 
Cazals,  of  Verlaine  standing,  dressed  in  the 
hospital  garb  —  long  dressing  -  gown,  shirt  un- 
buttoned at  the  neck,  and  cap. 

This  volume,  which  was  called  for  in  haste  by 
Vanier,  who  was  desirous  of  reimbursing  himself 
for  several  advances  by  publishing  Verlaine's  prose, 
for  which  a  small  circle  of  readers  existed,  does 
not  convey  the  exact  sentiments  felt  by  the  poet 
during  his  various  stays  in  hospital,  but  rather 
consists  of  reflections  made  outside,  and  journalistic 
comment. 

The  following  letters,  dated  from  Brussels, 
Tenon,  Vincennes,  and  Saint  -  Antoine,  give  a 
more  exact  idea  of  his  actual  feelings. 

He  was  ailing,  rather  than  ill,  suffering  from 
an  hereditary  rheumatism  in  the  joints  which 
hindered  his  walking.  Finding  himself  alone, 
penniless,  without  regular  work,  and  with  no 
shelter  except  wretched  rooms  like  those  in  the 
Cour  Saint- Fra^ois,  the  light,  clean  wards  of  the 
hospital  were  attractive  and  desirable.  Moreover, 
with  the  enforced  sobriety,  his  body,  freed  from 
the  bondage  of  drink,  was  soothed  by  a  diet,  if 
not  abundant  and  succulent,  at  least  healthful  and 
regular.  These  periods  in  hospital  were  better 
for  him  than  the  life  outside,  as  he  openly 
recognised. 

His  mother  died  in  January  1886,  which  was 
a  sad  and  disastrous  event  for  Paul,  who  found 
himself  altogether  isolated,  and  without  restraining 
influence  or  support.  He  wrote  me  the  following 
letter  soon  after  : 


412  PAUL  VERLAINE 

"PARIS,  z6th  January  1886. 

" 1  have  for  a  long  time  past  been  confined  to 
my  bed  with  rheumatism,  which  is  the  reason  why 
I  did  not  convey  to  you  myself,  as  I  might  have 
done,  the  sad  news. 

"  Will  you — I  entreat  you  ardently — as  soon  as 
you  receive  this,  come  and  see  me,  and  talk  to  me 
for  a  long  time  ?  I  am  more  unhappy  than  you 
can  possibly  imagine ! 

"Receive  my  most  sympathetic  shake  of  the 
hand,  and  come  very  quickly  to  see  your  affectionate 
friend. 

"I  am  lodging  at  a  wine  -  shop  —  entrance 
through  the  shop — Hotel  du  Midi,  6  Cour  Saint- 
Fran9ois,  Rue  Moreau.  It  is  between  the  Rue 
de  Charenton  and  the  Avenue  Daumesnil,  five 
minutes  from  the  Bastille. 

"At  a  later  hour. — Come  immediately  if  you 
can,  and  as  quickly  as  possible." 

I  went  to  see  him  on  receipt  of  this  note, 
some  time  after  the  death  of  his  mother,  for  I 
had  been  absent  from  Paris  when  the  sad  event 
occurred,  and  found  him  lodging  amid  absolutely 
deplorable  conditions.  The  Cour  Moreau,  which 
is  inhabited  by  the  working  classes,  chiefly  the 
very  poor,  is  situated  at  the  foot  of  the  railway 
line  to  Vincennes.  Verlaine  lodged  on  the  ground 
floor,  and  it  was  necessary  to  penetrate  through 
the  dirty  shop  in  order  to  gain  the  poet's  chamber. 
The  place  was  most  unfortunate  both  for  Verlaine's 
health  and  his  purse.  The  few  sous  he  received 
either  from  Vanier,  from  friends  to  whom  he 
communicated  his  distress,  or  from  the  wreck  of 
his  mother's  fortune,  only  too  easily  found  their 
way  to  the  bar.  His  room  was  small,  sordid, 


. 


DEATH   OF  VERLAINE'S   MOTHER  413 

sinister,  like  the  cut-throat  place  at  the  bottom 
of  which  it  squatted. 

There  was  no  flooring,  not  even  a  paving ;  the 
foot  fell  upon  the  bare  earth,  which  was  a  little 
muddy,  dampness,  brought  in  from  outside  by 
those  coming  and  going  having  softened  it.  The 
pot  boy  bringing  in  his  food,  rare  acquaintances 
from  the  Quartier  who  came  for  a  drink  at  the 
counter  hard  by  the  bed  of  the  sick  man,  and 
also  an  obliging  neighbour  who  talked  in  the 
evening  with  the  poet,  and  lent  him  newspapers, 
performing  a  few  of  the  duties  of  a  nurse,  formed 
his  sole  visitors. 

A  little  cupboard  served  as  Verlaine's  library  ; 
into  it  were  crowded  several  books — waifs  of  his 
many  shipwrecks—and  some  manuscripts.  A  narrow 
table  and  two  wicker-bottomed  chairs  completed 
the  furniture  of  this  wretched  room.  Evidently 
Verlaine  was  in  a  bad  state  from  every  point  of 
view,  and  when  he  decided  to  return  to  hospital 
it  was  a  change  for  the  better,  an  indisputable 
gain. 

Tenon,  his  first  hospital,  is  situated  on  the 
heights  of  M^nilmontant,  and  he  has  described 
it  in  picturesque  fashion. 

He  came  out  very  soon,  cured,  or  nearly  so, 
of  his  first  attack  of  gout.  A  new  attack  took 
him  back  to  the  hospital  again,  and  on  the  I3th 
December  he  wrote  me  the  following  letter : 

"  I  received  only  yesterday,  i2th  December,  your 
letter  of  25th  November,  and  hasten  to  answer  the 
questions  you  put  to  me. 

"For  six  weeks  I  have  been  in  the  Hospital 
Broussais,  Salle  Follin,  bed  6,  Rue  Didot  96, 


414  PAUL  VERLAINE 

1 4th  arr.  (the  public  admitted  on  Thursdays  and 
Sundays  from  one  till  three),  for  a  stiffness  in  the 
left  knee,  the  result  of  rheumatism  last  winter. 

"I  spent  the  months  of  *  July,  August,  and 
September  in  the  Hospital  Tenon,  on  account  of 
swellings  in  my  legs,  also  the  result  of  rheumatism. 
My  lodging  is  always  the  same,  5  Rue  Moreau, 
6  Cour  Saint-Frangois,  i2th  arr.  But  until  other 
advice  write  to  me  or  come  and  see  me  at  Broussais. 
So  much  for  my  health. 

"My  affairs  with  my  legal  ex-wife  have  been 
arranged,  naturally  to  my  loss  ;  i.e.,  that  after  having 
paid  my  debts,  those  of  my  mother  (debts,  mine 
and  hers  for  board  and  lodging  for  five  or  six 
months),  and  defrayed  the  expenses  of  her  interment 
at  Batignolles,  there  would  have  remained  to  me 
scarcely  enough  to  live  on  for  some  days,  if  I 
had  not  inherited  from  my  Aunt  Rose,  who  died  in 
February,  the  sum  of  2,400  francs,  three  quarters 
of  which  also  went  in  medicine,  board,  and  lodging. 
Such  is  my  financial  situation. 

"  My  wife,  or  ex- wife,  in  reply  to  a  courteous 
demand  of  mine  to  see  my  son  has  said  no.  I 
learned  quite  recently  that  she  married  again  in 
November  last.  I  think  I  have  some  right  to  see 
my  son,  and  interest  myself  in  him.  He  is  over 
fifteen,  and  is  a  day-boy  at  Rollins,  to  whom  I 
have  been  kindly  mentioned,  and  he  very  well 
remembers  my  visits  to  him  some  years  ago. 
What  do  you  advise  me  to  do? 

"I  am  glad  you  like  my  Mtmoires.  Have 
you  also  received  my  collection  of  stories  :  Louise 
Leclercq  ?  You  should  send  me  the  Echo  de  Paris 
in  which  you  speak  of  me. 

"It  is  a  fact,  I  believe,  that  I  ought  to  be 
able  to  earn  some  money  now  that  my  name 
has  issued  from  the  shadow  of  the  Parnasse  and 
decadence  (what  a  stupid  word).  So  again  I  ask 


IN   HOSPITAL  415 


you  how,  where  and  all  the  etceteras  to  write  in 
paying  newspapers.  With  my  leg  which  prevents 
me  from  walking,  and  my  awkwardness  —  my 
inexperience  in  these  things — I  am  in  as  great  a 
difficulty  in  this  connection  as  in  every  other. 

"  Luck  and  ill-luck ;  the  important  thing  is  that 
at  bottom  health  and  truth  remain.  As  the  people 
say,  I  am  not  sick  at  heart ;  that  being  so  and 
without  giving  way  to  overmuch  despair,  I  can 
perhaps  extricate  myself  from  the  abyss.  Easy  to 
say,  is  this  not  your  own  opinion?  I  should  be 
very  glad  to  see  you,  and  to  have  a  talk  by 
ourselves.  When  shall  we  see  one  another  again  ? 
I  do  not  know  when  I  shall  leave  here,  and  I  fear 
that  your  occupations  prevent  you  from  coming  to 
see  me — at  least  very  often.  But  we  can  correspond, 
and  I  can  count  on  your  kind  letters  of  news  and 
advice,  can  I  not  ? — Very  fraternally, 

"  P.  VERLAINE. 

"P. S. — I  have  received  news  of  Ricard,  and 
am  going  to  publish  a  biography  of  him  in  Les 
Hommes  du  Jour'' 

Verlaine  suddenly  disappeared.  He  took  up 
his  quarters  again  in  hospital,  and  during  the 
summer  of  1887  several  weeks  passed  without 
my  hearing  anything  of  him.  I  wrote  to  him, 
care  of  Vanier,  and  received  the  following  reply : 

"PARIS,  ith  August  1887. 

"  I  received  your  letter  at  the  Hospital  Tenon  ; 
it  reached  me  through  Vanier,  but  not  the  newspaper. 
I  will  procure  one,  or  if  you  have  time  send  one  to 
Vanier.  I  left  the  Cour  Saint- Fra^ois  in  April 
last.  Thank  you  in  advance  for  what  you  say 
about  the  Romances  sans  Paroles  which  have  had 
the  strange  fortune  to  appear  when  I  was — where 


416  PAUL  VERLAINE 

you  know — and  to  re-appear,  thirteen  years  after, 
finding  me  here.  Habent  sua  fata,  etc.  The  Sens 
edition  was  completely  exhausted,  as  was  also  that 
of  the  F&tes  galantes  (have  you  received  a  copy  of 
the  new  edition  ?),  and  the  Poemes  Saturniens,  and 
this  Bonne  Chanson  which  .  .  .  (rehabent  sua  fata 
relibelli).  For,  oh  derision !  I  have  some  success 
as  a  poet,  '  fame '  even,  but  I  can  say  with  as  much 
appropriateness  as  Lamartine  ruined  : 

" '  The  more  I  have  squeezed  this  fruit,  the  more  empty  have  I 
found  it.' 

"  Yes,  my  dear  Edmond,  my  circumstances  are 
more  deplorable  than  ever  ;  and  here  is  my  budget : 

"  Not  a  sou !  The  small  amount  of  money 
Vanier  may  still  owe  me  cannot  be  more  than  a  few 
crowns.  I  expect,  not  before  the  i5th  November 
next,  900  francs  from  a  notary  absolutely  inflexible 
in  the  matter  of  any  advance  whatsoever.  I  speak 
from  experience.  You  see,  dear  friend,  the  situa- 
tion is  very  clear.  To  die  of  hunger,  or  to  find 
something  as  soon  as  possible,  no  matter  what,  now 
or  afterwards.  Such  are  the  horns  of  the  dilemma. 
Ideas  I  have  not.  I  could  give  lessons  in  English 
and  other  things,  with  diploma  and  references  .  .  . 
to  support  me,  but  to  whom,  and  where?  You 
know  the  use  of  advertising  in  the  newspapers ! 
It  is  only  through  friends  that  I  could  obtain  any- 
thing. If  you  know  .  .  .  some  one  who  could 
offer  me  anything,  tell  me. 

"  I  have  been  offered  (Mendes)  or  rather 
promised  work  in  the  press.  Perhaps  help  from 
the  Ministere  de  Tlnstruction  Publique.  That  is 
a  secret! — but  for  the  moment  I  have  nothing  in 
my  pocket,  and  no  idea  how  anything  is  to  come 
there.  I  am  very  grateful  to  you  for  your  kind 
efforts.  Please  pursue  them  actively.  I  shall 


IN  HOSPITAL  417 

know  how  to  respond  to  the  success  of  your  friendly 
endeavours.  As  much  as  all  these  worries  permit 
me  I  work — outside  the  verse  which  it  is  absolutely 
impossible  for  me  not  to  make  from  time  to  time, 
it  is  truly  second  nature  with  me — at  prose,  which 
I  am  making  as  '  possible,'  as  possible.  But  when 
one  has  acquired  the  habit,  whether  of  refinements 
or  simplicity,  perhaps  more  refined  still  and  more 
difficult,  what  an  effort  it  is  ...  to  see  it  become 
unprofitable. 

"  I  wrote  you  from  Cochin,  where  I  spent  a 
month  in  August  and  May.  Did  you  receive  that 
letter?  This  time  I  was  very  careful  to  put  on 
the  envelope  'personal  and  urgent/  I  am  here, 
Hospital  Tenon,  ward  Seymour,  bed  5  bis,  Rue  de 
la  Chine,  Paris — probably  until  Tuesday  next  week, 
9  inst.,  the  day  on  which  I  shall  be  sent  to  the 
Asile  de  Vincennes,  Saint-Maurice  (Seine),  where 
I  shall  remain  a  fortnight  or  three  weeks.  But  it 
is  possible,  seeing  how  full  all  the  hospitals  are  now, 
either  that  they  will  keep  me  here  another  week  or 
send  me  away  a  week  sooner.  In  any  case,  you 
will  be  instructed  immediately  to  what  address  to 
write.  ...  I  press  your  hand  very  sadly,  but  all 
the  same  very  courageously.  P  VERLAINE." 

He  entered  for  a  time  the  Asile  de  Vincennes, 
from  whence  he  wrote  to  me,  asking  me  to  come 
and  see  him. 

In  September  1887  he  came  out,  visited  the 
familiar  cafe's,  had  a  relapse,  and  re  -  entered 
Broussais. 

I  invited  him  many  times  to  come  and  stay 
some  weeks  with  me  at  Bougival,  where  he  would 
have  had  a  good  opportunity  to  read,  work,  and 
get  well,  with  certain  precautions,  on  my  part,  to 
prevent  too  many  visits  to  the  wine-shop,  but  he 

2  D 


418  PAUL  VERLAINE 

always  postponed  his  visit,  although  he  knew  that 
it  would  do  him  good.  After  his  third  relapse, 
when  I  renewed  my  insistence,  he  wrote  as  follows  : 


September,  1887. 

11  1  refer  to  my  last  letter  only  to  tell  you  that 
I  ended  by  returning  to  the  hospital.  My  present 
address  therefore  is  .  .  .  Hospital  Broussais.  .  .  . 
All  the  rest  of  my  letter  is  of  a  true  absolute  : 
Misery  —  Infirmity  —  Hope. 

"  I  am  treated  here  sceptically.  Perhaps  they 
will  try  and  bend  my  leg  after  putting  me  to  sleep, 
in  a  fortnight's  time,  so  I  have  fifteen  days  to  the 
good.  I  confess  I  would  rather  go  out.  Could 
you  procure  some  sort  of  shelter  and  food  for  me  ? 
I  shall  have  very  little  money.  Could  you  or  any 
one  you  know  advance  me  100  francs  to  be  repaid 
on  the  1  6th  November  next  for  certain?  To  my 
frank  demands  kindly  answer  frankly.  Friends 
always.  I  shall  have  all  the  necessary  courage. 
Besides,  I  have  great  hope  in  the  near  future,  and 
I  am  equal  to  a  great  effort.  Answer  immediately, 
will  you  not  ?  " 

Verlaine  wrote  me  many  letters  at  this  period 
from  the  Hospital  Broussais;  their  monotonous 
character  renders  it  unnecessary  to  quote  them 
all,  but  the  following  are  some  extracts  from  them  : 

"PARIS,  gM  October  1887. 

/'Many  thanks  for  your  kind  promises  of  hospi- 
tality. I  hope  not  to  weary  you  for  long  if  I  am 
obliged  to  avail  myself  of  your  kindness.  I  do  not 
yet  know  when  I  shall  take  my  departure.  I  shall 
3  delay  it  as  long  as  possible,  especially  as  I 
am  on  the  mend,  and  begin  to  hope  that  they  will 
,ontmue  to  treat  me  by  gradual  movements;  In 


PAUL    VERLAINE    AT    THE    HOSPITAL. 
From  a  drawing  by  F.  A.  Cazals  in  the  Musee  National  du  Luxembourg,  Paris. 


IN  HOSPITAL  419 

this  way  I  shall  avoid,  not  without  joy,  an  operation 
of  doubtful  success.  However,  I  will  advise  you, 
some  days  in  advance  when  I  am  about  to  leave." 

" HOSPITAL  BROUSSAIS,  2ist  October  1887. 

"  First,   many  thanks  for   the    mention    in   the 
Echo  de  Paris.  .  .  . 

11 1  expect  to  go  out  soon ;  in  reality,  I  believe 
myself  incurable,  or  at  least  a  cure  would  take  so 
long  that  it  comes  to  the  same  thing.     A  vague 
but  very  distressing  amour-propre  makes  me  im- 
patient.    One  has  the  air  of  being  here  through 
charity   although   perhaps    the    Association   which 
despoiled  me   in    the   form  of  the  Justice  of  the 
Peace   of  the   I2th   arr.    owes   me  a  little  hospi- 
tality.     And  then   from   one   moment   to   another 
I    may    be    sent    away,    so    benevolent    are    the 
managers  and  doctors.     Now  if  I  go  out  suddenly, 
before  the  1 5th  November,  I  may  very  easily  find 
myself  with  not  enough  money  to  take  the  train 
to    Bougival.     I    should,  therefore,  be   very  much 
obliged  to  you  if  you  would  send  me  the  neces- 
sary   sum   (0.90    c. ! !).      I    assure   you    that    you 
will  be  repaid    next    November.     I    shall  put  the 
sum  aside  to  await  my  departure,   and  not  touch 
it.     Some  friends  bring  me  tobacco  from  time  to 
time,    and   Vanier — but   it   is   hard   to   make    him 
part!  ...   I    am   going   to   conclude   some   future 
agreements  not  very  satisfying  .  .  .  with  this  pub- 
lisher, intelligent,  but  I  repeat,  close ! 

"  I  shall  drag  out  the  days  here  as  much  as 
possible,  and  only  decide  to  go  when  I  see  they 
have ,  had  enough  of  me.  But  as  I  expect  this 
will  be  soon,  you  see  I  am  right  in  awaiting  with 
impatience  what  you  will  be  so  kind  to  lend  me 
for  the  little  journey  to  be  made  by  a  quasi-invalid. 
"  I  will  not  weary  you  otherwise  very  much  nor 
very  long.  If  you  knew  how  easily  satisfied  I  have 


420  PAUL  VERLAINE 

become,  though  I  never  was  difficult  in  this  respect. 
I  have  so  few  requirements  now !  Some  friends  are 
trying  right  and  left  to  place  copy  for  me.  Perhaps 
you,  too,  could  give  me  advice  and  indications 
without,  of  course,  losing  sight  of  the  idea  of 
my  living,  if  possible,  in  a  private  hospital.  But 
I  believe  I  may  hope  to  earn  money  by  literature, 
and  to  make  up  enough  for  my  daily  bread  (and 
a  little  butter)  with  other  slight  labours,  lessons, 
writing,  etc. 

"When  I  am  with  you  I  will  read  a  great 
deal  and  bring  myself  up  to  date  .  .  .  and  make 
plans  to  be  put  into  execution  if  I  can  get  'my' 
notary  to  advance  me  1,000  francs  on  a  debt  of 
1,500  francs  to  be  recovered  a  little  later  from 
an  old  vicar  of  Saint- Gervais — a  hard  morsel  a 
vicar  of  Saint-Gervais,  but  a  pretty  morsel:  1,500 
francs!  .  .  ." 

"HOSPITAL  BROUSSAIS,  26th  October  1887. 

"  I  am  counting  upon  my  943  francs  and  some 
centimes  about  the  i6th  November  next.  This  sum, 
together,  perhaps,  with  some  probable  'returns,'  will 
permit  me,  while  endeavouring  to  recover  my  debt 
of  1,500  francs,  of  which  I  spoke  to  you  in  my 
'  rather  agitated '  letter,  to  buy  a  few  clothes,  choose 
a  suitable  lodging,  and  wait  while  working  for  the 
newspapers  and  seeking  lessons  or  an  appointment. 

"  A  volume  of  mine  is  about  to  appear,  Amour. 
It  is  Catholic,  but  not  clerical,  although  very 
orthodox. 

"In  it  I  have  dedicated  to  you  a  poem  in  the 
same  simple  and  descriptive  style  as  the  Nocturne 
Parisien  and  Le  Grognard.  ...  I  think  this 
book,  which  is  more  varied  than  Sagesse,  will 
have  some  success  and  put  me  in  the  way  of 
obtaining  more  lucrative  work.  It  will  be  followed 
by  Parallelement,  an  altogether  '  profane '  collection, 


IN   HOSPITAL  421 

a  little   '  red '  and  amusing,   I  think.     These  two, 
absolutely  finished,  are  almost  in  the  press. 

"  I  have  two  short  stories  ready  and  several 
articles  for  a  second  series  of  Les  Memoires  cTun 
Veuf,  .  .  .  also  some  other  prose  writings.  You 
see,  I  have  done  work  in  advance.  Some  friends 
are  trying  to  place  them  but  .  .  . !  How  odd  this 
literary  situation  is!  But  I  believe  if  I  were 
sharper,  from  the  publishing  and  journalistic  point 
of  view,  I  could  extricate  myself.  I  am  going 
to  try.  Que  Diable  \  It  would  be  too  much  to 
die  of  hunger.  But  first  I  am  going  to  economise. 
How  difficult  even  with  nothing  in  one's  pocket 
and  with  most  reasonable  wants.  However,  I  have 
been,  and  can  be  again,  without  very  much  trouble. 
But  I  babble.  .  .  . 

"PARIS,  2%th  November  1887. 

"  I  owe  you  this  letter,  for  you  may  be  surprised 
at  my  silence,  after  my  resolution  several  times 
expressed,  to  ask  you  to  give  me  shelter  for  a 
time  at  your  Bougival.  This  is  how  it  is.  The 
900  francs,  on  which  I  confidently  counted  in 
November,  will  not  be  remitted  to  me  until  April, 
but  surely  then.  ...  I  explained  to  you,  I  believe, 
that  it  was  the  remainder  of  a  deposit  in  guarantee 
of  payment  for  a  property  sold  by  me  in  1882, 
said  payment  to  be  completed  in  six  years.  I 
made  a  mistake  with  regard  to  the  date  .  .  .  but 
it  is  sure,  sure ! 

"  The  impossibility  of  obtaining  from  Vanier — 
spes  unica  —  sums  sufficient  to  live  on  outside 
while  awaiting  the  most  welcome  payment,  has 
determined  me,  following  the  reiterated  advice  of 
friends  who  have  been  to  see  me,  to  prolong 
my  stay  here  as  long  as  possible.  But  I  have 
carefully  put  your  loan  aside,  thanking  you  again 
for  it  a  thousand  times. 


422  PAUL  VERLAINE 

".  .  .  Have  you  spoken  of  me  to  any  one  who 
could  help  me,  and  do  you  see  any  hope?  Do 
you,  at  least,  see  any  means  of  my  placing  in  the 
press  some  short  stories,  fantasies  in  the  style  of 
Les  Memoires  d'un  Veuf,  criticisms,  translations, 
etc.  ?  Vanier,  with  whom  I  have  agreements,  but 
so  unremunerative,  would  not  be  offended  ;  on  the 
contrary,  I  believe  he  would  be  pleased  to  see 
a  prose  work  of  mine  issued  by  some  other 
publisher.  Do  you  see  any  possibility  of  an 
agreement  between  me  and  one  of  his  confreres, 
with  some  advance  on  a  book,  nearly  completed, 
of  short  stories  and  articles,  two  or  three  of  which 
are  rather  stiff,  but  can  be  modified  if  necessary  ? 
.  .  .  And  lessons  ?  .  .  . 

"  I  am  always  much  the  same,  lame,  but  able 
to  walk  a  little,  almost  enough  :  but  at  the  same 
time  sufficiently  afflicted  to  interest  them  here. 
I  am  very  dull  although  I  work  very  hard.  What 
a  life,  what  surroundings,  what  burial,  remote 
from  any  possibility  of  speaking  for  myself,  and 
the  absent  are  always  wrong!  I  am  none  the 
less  grateful  to  you  for  your  kind  digressions  and 
flattering  allusions  to  me.  When  there  are  any 
in  your  newspapers,  try  and  send  them  to  me. 
My  volume,  Amour,  will  soon,  I  hope,  appear.  .  .  . 
I  ^have  another,  I  ought  to  have  written  to  you 
about  it,  nearly  ready,  equally  daring  and  orgiaque, 
and  not  too  melancholy ;  it  makes  part  of  a  whole, 
of  which  Sagesse  is  the  frontispiece,  Jadis  et 
Naguere,  a  part,  and  Parallelement  another  part, 
Bonheur  being  the  conclusion.  A  second  series 
of  Les  Poetes  Maudits  is  in  the  press  (Desbordes- 
Valmore,  Villiers  de  1'Isle-Adam,  and  Pauvre 
Lilian  [P.V/D  .  .  .  Dame!  I  shall  have  time  to 
arrange  everything  when  I  have  some  money  for 
suck  a  purpose.  ..." 


IN  HOSPITAL  423 

"  $rd  January  1888. 

"Always  in  hospital,  where,  'as  regards  the  leg/ 
I  get  better  only  imperceptibly.  However,  my 
general  health  is  good,  and  outside  a  number  of 
kindly  articles  seem  to  be  preparing  for  my  future 
publications  —  my  store  cupboards  are  full  —  a 
pecuniary  reception  from  publishers,  and  in  the 
meanwhile,  from  editors.  I  count  always  upon 
your  kindly  efforts  in  my  favour.  ...  I  shall  do 
my  best  to  prolong  my  residence  here,  as  it  is 
salutary  from  every  point  of  view,  for  at  least  I 
work  in  peace  in  this  very  calm  Broussais. 

"  My  book  Amour  will  soon  appear.  The 
piece  in  it  dedicated  to  you  appeared  in  La  Vogue 
in  1886.  It  is  entitled  Ecrit  en  1875,  and  has  to 
do  with  my  Vilttgiature  at  Mons,  in  1873,  1874, 
and  1875.  I  would  send  you  a  copy,  but  my 
manuscript  is  with  Vanier,  and  you  know  what  a 
poor  memory  for  verse,  whether  my  own  or 
others,  I  have.  I  hope  you  will  like  it. 

"An  employee  in  the  offices  of  this  hospital, 
M.  De'sire'  Vally,  police  magistrate,  at  the  Palais 
(Morbihan),  from  February  1880,  then  at  Chateau- 
neuf  (Charante),  where,  at  the  end  of  July  1883, 
he  was  dismissed,  hoping  that  the  reasons  which 
decided  the  administration  to  use  so  rigorous  a 
measure,  would  not  now  prevent  his  reinstate- 
ment, is  soliciting  a  new  appointment  from  the 
Minister  of  the  Interior  as  police  magistrate  or 
inspector.  This  gentleman,  who  has  always  been 
very  obliging  to  me,  has  asked  me  to  do  what 
I  can  for  him,  so  I  recommend  you  his  application, 
which  is  not  sent  yet,  but  will  be  when  I  hear 
from  you,  if  you  see  any  method  of  supporting 
it.  Send  me  your  Moris  Heureuses" 

"PARIS,  list  February  1888 
"  This  is  to  tell  you  that  I  am  still  in  the  same 


424  PAUL  VERLAINE 

state,  neither  good  nor  bad,  at  the  Hospital  Broussais. 
My  finances  are  a  little  better,  and  I  hope  when 
I  go  out  to  have  some  money  to  go  on  with  until 
I  receive  the  amount  which  will  give  me  time 
to  look  about  me.  Have  you  taken  up  the  matter 
of  good  M.  Vally?  I  recommend  it  to  you  again. 
Could  you  insert  enclosed  advertisement  in  one  of 
your  papers,  the  Mot  or  the  Echot  He  would  be 
very  grateful  to  you.  You  might  send  me  the 
number  in  which  it  appears  and  I  will  hand  it  to 
him.  He  is  a  man  worthy  of  every  confidence.  .  ." 

Verlaine  came  out  of  hospital  and  occupied 
himself  with  his  affairs,  particularly  in  connection 
with  his  mother's  will,  wrote  some  articles  for 
Vanier,  and  then,  utterly  disheartened,  crushed  by 
life  and  his  recent  loss,  stunned  by  isolation 
tormented  by  disease,  uneasy  about  the  future, 
seeing  himself  almost  without  friends,  having  broken 
with  all  the  companions  of  his  youth  except  me, 
who,  unhappily,  was  very  much  occupied  and  could 
not  keep  him  company,  nor  spend  my  time  in 
visiting  the  wine-shops,  he  fell  back  into  chronic 
drunkenness.  Dragging  his  diseased  leg,  support- 
ing himself  with  a  stick,  but  with  body  upright,  head 
held  high,  and  a  sarcastic  smile,  he  went  on  his 
wretched  way  through  Paris,  sitting  at  the  tables 
in  the  cafe's  of  the  Quartier  Latin  and  rhyming 
verses,  writing  by  fits  and  starts  short  stories, 
and  talking  and  drinking  endlessly  with  the  young 
poets  attracted  by  his  growing  fame. 

One  fine  day  he  was  no  longer  to  be  seen  at 
the  Francois  Premier  or  the  Cafe  Rouge — the 
establishments  he  usually  frequented — where  he  had 
his  little  court  and  had  been  photographed  for  a 
series  of  our  literary  men  as  "  Verlaine  at  Home." 


IN  HOSPITAL  425 

His  disappearance  caused  no  comment  unless  some 
one  asked  carelessly  "  Do  you  know  in  what  hospital 
Verlaine  is  ?  " 

In  the  Echo  de  Paris  I  wrote  an  article  point- 
ing out  with  a  certain  emotion  the  ill  health  and 
needy  condition  of  the  poet.  Some  of  his  cafe* 
companions  suggested  that  in  depicting  his  misery 
I  had  attacked  his  dignity,  which  was  ridiculous. 
A  little  newspaper  published  in  the  Cour  des 
Miracles  announced  that  Verlaine  had  written  to 
blame  me,  which  was  an  error.  The  following 
matter  establishes  the  facts. 

"PARIS,  17 th  February  1889. 

"DEAR  FRIEND, — I  hear  that  an  article  by  you 
has  appeared  in  the  Echo  de  Paris,  in  which  you 
speak  of  me  in  amusing  and  affectionate  terms. 
I  will  try  and  procure  the  number  ;  meanwhile  I 
seize  this  opportunity  to  thank  you  for  your  kind 
remembrance.  What  did  provoke  me,  I  confess,  in 
the  article  of  the  I2th  inst.,  was  to  read  of  myself 
as  having  been  seen  crushed  with  misery  in  the 
hospital  of  legends  like  Gilbert,  H.  Moreau  and 
all  the  rest  of  the  lyrical,  consumptive,  interest- 
ing, brotherhood,  one  of  whom  Heaven  forefend  I 
should  ever  be  regarded.  As  you  can  understand, 
one  is  at  times  rather  easily  annoyed  at  such 
suppositions,  and  I  am  quite  sure  you  would  never 
reproach  me  with  being  proud,  even  if  I  were 
sometimes  a  little  too  much  so. 

"  With  my  hand  and  all  my  heart  P.  Verlaine, 
Hospital  Broussais. 

I  have  just  received  your  card,  not  only  without 
anger,  but  with  another  handshake." 

Verlaine  meanwhile  had  published  Amour,  and 
Parallelement  was  in  the  press. 


426  PAUL  VERLAINE 

I  have  already  indicated  the  circumstances  and 
state  of  mind  in  which  the  poet  wrote  the  majority 
of  the  pieces  composing  these  two  volumes.  It  is 
not  necessary  to  attribute  to  Parallelement,  certain 
pages  of  which  border  on  a  looseness  only  to  be 
qualified  as  imaginative,  the  authority  of  an  auto- 
biography, or  of  confession.  It  must  not  be  for- 
gotten, when  reading  these  pages  of  vicious,  rather 
boastful  fiction,  that  Verlaine  said:  "Of  course  I 
am  not  speaking  of  Parallelement  in  which  I 
rather  pretend  to  be  in  communication  with  the 
devil"  (Mes  Prisons.}  It  was  in  the  solitude  of 
his  Belgian  prisons  that  Verlaine  conceived  and 
executed  the  majority  of  these  little  poems  which 
are  characterised  by  an  intense  pruriency.  The 
distorted,  bizarre  and  capricious  verses  recall  the 
cocoanuts  patiently  carved  into  faces  by  the  convicts 
of  old  times,  which  they  offered  with  a  simple  and 
mischievous  air  to  the  nervous  citizens  visiting  the 
hulks  at  Toulon  and  Brest. 

Verlaine  wanted  to  go  for  a  time,  when  he  came 
out  of  hospital,  to  Aix-les-Bains,  as  the  following 
letter  shows : 

"itfhjuly  1889. 

"That ....  Vanier,  has  he  sent  you  Parallele- 
ment and  the  new  edition  of  Sagesse  ?  As  for  me  I 
have  no  longer  any  connection  with  him,  and  am 
ready  to  make  him  dance.  ...  I  may  even  beg 
you  one  day  to  insert  a  letter  of  mine  which  will 
please  him  but  ill.  .  .  .  Could  you  by  any  chance 
see  if  you  could  obtain  for  me  a  railway  pass  to 
Aix-les-Bains,  I  have  a  bed  and  excellent  recom- 
mendations to  the  hospital  there  ?  I  have  returned 
here,  for  my  leg  torments  me  dreadfully,  and  I  wish 
to  have  done  with  it,  even  if  it  takes  me  six  months 
or  more  of  serious  treatment. 


IN  HOSPITAL  427 

He  was  able  to  go  to  Aix-les- Bains,  where  he 
had  rather  an  amusing  adventure  in  a  hotel.  The 
landlord  did  not  want  to  take  him  in,  being  startled 
by  his  rather  wild  air  and  Bohemian  dress.  A  well- 
known  doctor,  however,  to  whom  Verlaine  had 
been  recommended,  arranged  the  affair  for  him. 

In  letters  written  from  Aix  to  his  young  friend 
Cazals,  Verlaine  enumerated  his  literary  projects. 
He  was  working  at  Bonheur.  He  had  an  idea 
for  the  second  edition  of  Parallelement : 

"  A  dialogue  between  youths  and  virgins  in  the 
style  of  Virgil.  The  subject  will  allow  me  the 
utmost  liberty.  Title :  Chant  Alterne1,  I  shall 
lengthen  the  lament  on  L.  L.  (Lucien  Le"tinois) 
in  Amour,  but  shall  undoubtedly  leave  Sagesse  as 
it  is.  Therefore  Parallelement  being  augmented 
by  400  or  500  lines,  the  volumes  of  my  tetralogy, 
if  I  may  thus  speak  of  my  elegy  in  four  parts,  will 
be  of  equal  importance." 

This  fragment  shows  that  there  was  a  great  deal 
of  "composition  "  in  both  the  audacious  passion  and 
despair  of  his  verses.  He  heightened  his  lament 
for  Lucien  L^tinois,  like  an  actress  who  wrote  to 
Dumas  that  she  was  "  working  up  tears"  for  a 
moving  fifth  act.  It  would  therefore  be  incorrect, 
as  I  have  already  said,  to  take  as  the  expression  of 
personal  sentiments  and  desires  all  the  passages, 
often  extreme,  in  this  "tetralogy,"  in  which  Verlaine 
combines  the  duly  proportioned  parts  with  art  and 
artifice. 

On  Verlaine's  return  to  Broussais,  the  hospital 
he  preferred,  he  became  impatient  at  not  seeing 
his  works  published  in  the  newspapers.  I  did  what 
I  could  both  in  the  Echo  de  Paris  and  elsewhere, 


428  PAUL  VERLAINE 

and  was  fortunate  enough  to  get  some  of  his  prose 
and  poetry  accepted  ;  but  Verlaine's  copy  was  not 
always  easy  to  place  in  a  great  daily.  The  follow- 
ing letter  shows  his  rather  excusable  irritation  : 

"PARIS,  8//fc  January  1890. 

"MY  DEAR  FRIEND, — What  does  this  silence 
signify?  What  makes  you  angry  with  me?  I 
am  compelled  to  formulate  this  question  and  put  it 
to  you.  Nothing,  I  believe.  And  I  have  written 
to  you  so  often  about  such  important  things. 

"  You  offered  once  to  send  a  story  of  mine  to 
the  Echo  de  Paris.  I  sent  you  one  (Extremes 
Onctions\  but  have  received  no  acknowledgment, 
in  spite  of  three  or  four  letters.  But  it  appears 
that  on  the  Echo  I  have  an  enemy,  a  M.  B.  .  .  . 
G.  .  .  .,  ready  to  do  me  an  ill  turn,  for  in  the  affair 
of  the  Boucicaut  legacy,  I,  after  much  unpleasant- 
ness, only  received  a  hundred  francs,  while  others 
almost  unknown,  obtained  three  and  five  hundred ! 

"  I  had  also,  it  seems,  ill-wishers  on  the  com- 
mittees of  the  syndicates  to  which  I  have  sent 
verse  and  prose,  as  I  told  you.  Let  us  pass  over, 
then,  the  Echo  de  Paris>  in  which,  I  have  it  on 
the  best  authority,  there  is  nothing  to  be  done  for 
me,  but  have  you  not  the  ear  of  several  other 
journals  for  which  I  could  work? 

"  I  am  not  a  beggar,  but  a  known  literary  man, 
and  almost  dying  of  hunger — ill,  moreover — who 
asks  himself  what  is  the  use  of  friends  if  they  are 
so  neutralised  by  others  in  authority.  I  dare  ask 
nothing  more  of  you,  except  to  indicate  to  your 
pen  my  situation  as  an  author  whom  a  publisher 
(Vanier)  keeps  in  poverty  by  agreements  which  he 
himself  does  not  observe,  and  who  can  do  nothing 
except,  on  the  one  hand,  provoke  in  his  (P.  V.'s) 
favour  a  press  campaign  against  Vanier,  or,  on 


IN   HOSPITAL  429 

the   other,    print    his    works    himself    in    spite   of 
every  one. 

"  Can  I  at  least  count  on  you  for  this  ?  Please 
advise  me,  and  send  me  the  numbers  in  which  you 
reveal  this  real  scandal,  dreadful  and  dishonouring 
to  the  country  in  which  it  has  occurred." 

I  succeeded  in  obtaining  the  insertion  of  some 
poems  for  him  in  the  Echo  de  Paris,  for  which 
he  thanked  me,  asking  at  the  same  time  anxiously 
for  payment. 

He  went  out  of  Broussais  in  the  spring,  to 
enter  it  again  in  the  autumn. 

"  PARIS,  $rd  November  1890. 

"  I  am  writing  you  this  from  Broussais,  now 
become  proverbial,  but  none  the  more  amusing 
for  that,  to  tell  you  about  a  plan  for  a  fairly  long 
book  —  impressions  more  or  less  pleasant  and 
humorous,  without  any  malice  —  entitled :  Mes 
Hopitaux !  ...  I  have  twelve  closely  written 
pages,  and  the  thing  can  be  extended  to  double 
this  length ;  and  it  will  be  extremely  easy  for 
me  to  carry  it  out  to  the  end,  so  much  I  possess 
my  subject,  or  rather,  alas !  does  my  subject  possess 
me !  Now,  could  this  work  be  included  ...  in 
one  of  your  journals  ?  .  .  . 

"...  I  do  not  know  when  I  shall  leave  here. 
I  will  spend  one  or  two  days  with  you  at  Bougival, 
not,  of  course,  without  warning." 

He  had  a  fresh  attack  of  rheumatism  at  the 
beginning  of  1891,  and  changed  his  hospital  for 
that  of  Saint-Antoine. 

"  i  tfh  January  1891. 

"  For  the  last  three  days  my  cursed  rheumatism, 
doubtless  aroused  by  the  intense  cold,  has  seized 
me  again,  this  time  in  the  left  wrist,  so  much  so 


430  PAUL  VERLAINE 

that  I  am  disabled  all  one  side  of  my  body! 
And  wretched  !  I  immediately  '  established '  myself 
in  the  Hospital  Saint  -  Antoine  .  .  .  where  I  am 
allowed  to  hope  for  a  possible  and  comparatively 
rapid  cure. 

11  Xau  recently  sent  me  a  letter  inviting  me  to 
do  an  article  on  society  women,  drawing-rooms, 
elegances,  fashions,  etc.  Difficult  to  do,  especially 
for  a  savage  like  myself,  and  paralysed  by  rheu- 
matism. I  am  going  to  write  and  excuse  myself, 
and  find  out  if  he  has  really  anything  for  me 

to  do.  .  .  ." 

"  i$thjuly  1891. 

"...  A  little  country  air  would  do  me  the 
greatest  good,  and  enable  me  to  finish  some  great 
works  which  should  at  last  free  me  from  embarrass- 
ment. Besides,  I  hope  soon  to  have  finished  with 
this  five  years'  misery !  .  .  . 

"BED  25,  WARD  WOILLEZ,  HOSPITAL  COCHIN." 

Verlaine,  in  the  various  hospitals  in  which  he 
stayed,  was,  therefore,  well  treated  and  cared  for ; 
he  enjoyed,  even  from  the  patients,  ignorant  of 
the  quality  and  literary  importance  of  their  room- 
mate, particular  consideration.  He  was  up  in  all 
the  traditions  of  the  hospital,  the  object  of  the 
doctors'  attention,  and  the  sympathy  of  the  patients. 

One  of  the  physicians  who  showed  the  most 
kindness  to  and  interest  in  him  was  the  excellent 
Dr  Tapret.  This  will  surprise  no  one,  as  Dr 
Tapret  is  not  only  one  of  our  most  eminent 
practitioners,  but  also  a  friend  of  the  arts,  and 
a  connoisseur  in  literature,  painting,  and  music. 

He  was  not  able  to  cure  Verlaine,  for  his 
complaint  was  incurable,  but  the  care  of  the 
learned  man,  to  whom  I  myself  owe  gratitude 


IN  HOSPITAL  431 

for  the  almost  miraculous  cure  of  an  attack  of 
gout,  so  checked  and  diminished  the  progress  of 
the  disease,  that  Verlaine  returned  no  more  to 
hospital.  Sainte-Antoine  was  his  last  hospital, 
and  Dr  Tapret  his  last  physician.  But  for  the 
irregularities  and  excesses  of  his  later  life,  Verlaine 
might,  doubtless,  have  been  definitely  freed  from 
the  rheumatic  attacks  which  tormented  his  mature 
years. 

The  hospital  was  a  shelter,  a  refuge  where  he 
could  work,  a  haven  where  he  was  safe  from  the 
shipwrecks  of  debauch ;  a  sanatorium,  moral  and 
physical. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

LAST     YEARS EUGENIE      KRANTZ DEATH     IN     THE 

RUE     DESCARTES FUNERAL A      MONUMENT      TO 

PAUL   VERLAINE 

(1892-1896) 

PAUL  VERLAINE'S  last  years  were  rather  regrettable. 
I  shall  give  few  details  of  his  existence  in  the 
Quartier  Latin  from  1892.  He  lived  in  various  lodg- 
ings, all  equally  squalid,  and  dragged  his  diseased 
leg  and  his  withering  talent  into  all  the  wine-shops 
and  bars  on  the  left  bank,  in  company  with  Eugenie 
Krantz,  Philomene,  or  Esther,  light-o'-loves,  anxious 
to  empty  his  glass  and  his  pocket.  This  period, 
however,  was  neither  unproductive  nor  sterile. 
After  Amour  and  Bonheur,  the  two  last  works 
of  his  best  period,  he  published  several  unequal 
volumes.  In  some  of  these  tortured  poems,  ellipse, 
anacoluthon,  and  disordered  phrase  too  often  corre- 
spond with  incoherence  of  idea ;  and  absurdities, 
and  plays  upon  words  abound.  Besides  various 
fragments  in  prose,  biographies,  travel  -  notes, 
fantasies,  he  published  successively  in  his  last 
years  Les  Elegies,  Dans  les  Limbes,  Les  Dddicaces, 
Les  Epigrammes,  Chair,  Chansons  pour  Elley 
Liturgies,  Intimes,  Odes  en  Son  Honneur. 

Several  of  the  poems  in  these  different  volumes 
432 


LAST  YEARS  433 

date  from  an  earlier  period.  They  had  been 
neglected  or  buried  by  the  poet,  and  afterwards 
exhumed.  In  spite  of  his  loose  life,  his  numerous 
changes  of  domicile,  and  his  sojourns  in  prisons 
and  hospitals,  Verlaine  preserved  and  published 
almost  everything  he  wrote.  In  his  letters  the  in- 
sistence with  which  he  asked  me  for  any  poem  he 
had  sent  me  a  copy  of  is  remarkable.  Still  a  few 
poems  went  astray,  some  of  which  I  have  repro- 
duced, and  various  fragments  which  were  buried  in 
dead  publications  and  youthful  verses  have  been 
included  in  the  last  volume  of  the  complete  works, 
under  the  title  CEuvres  Posthumes. 

As  its  title  indicates,  the  book  Dddicaces  is  only 
a  bouquet  of  rhymes  offered  nominally  to  personal 
friends  for  the  most  part.  A  dedication  addressed 
to  me  begins  the  volume,  a  sort  of  frontispiece, 
with  a  fac-simile  of  Verlaine's  handwriting. 

I  will  add  to  the  list  of  Verlaine's  last  works  a 
booklet  of  erotic  character,  entitled  Femmes,  which 
was  privately  circulated,  and  could  not  figure  even 
in  a  complete  edition. 

One  volume  stands  apart,  but  must  not  be  over- 
looked, viz. :  the  collection  of  poems  issued  by 
Charpentier,  under  the  title  Choix  de  Poesies.  A 
fine  portrait,  poetic  and  melancholy,  by  Eugene 
Carriere,  adorns  this  volume,  made  up  of  excellent 
poems,  chosen  with  taste  from  among  the  principal 
works  of  the  poet,  the  Poemes  Saturniens,  the 
Fetes  galantes,  the  Romances  sans  Paroles,  Sagesse, 
Jadis  et  Naguere,  Parallelement,  and  Bonheur. 
The  collection  may  not  be  of  much  account  to 
those  who  love  poetry  and  desire  to  possess  the 
complete  Verlaine,  but  it  is  sufficient,  especially 

2  E 


434  PAUL  VERLAINE 

for  a  foreigner,  to  give  a  good  idea  of  the  work 
of  the  great  poet.  I  may  add  that  the  Choix  de 
Patsies  could  be  put  into  any  hands  and  figure 
in  any  catalogue  of  the  classics. 

There  now  remains  for  me  to  speak  of  only 
one  book,  and  that  is  one  the  publication  of 
which  I  deplore.  It  is  entitled  the  Invectives,  a 
posthumous  work.  I  do  not  wish  to  stir  up  the 
controversies  revived  by  the  publication  of  this 
book.  The  publisher  Vanier  is  dead.  I  will  only 
declare  anew  that  if  Verlaine  had  lived,  he  might 
wisely,  loyally,  and  advantageously  have  omitted 
certain  of  these  Invectives,  viz.  :  those  which  have 
aroused  most  hostility  to  his  memory  as  poet. 
These  Invectives  it  is  which  have  arrested  the 
efforts  of  the  committee  for  the  monument,  and 
alienated  a  large  number  of  persons  otherwise 
favourably  inclined.  By  means  of  a  few  crowns 
Vanier  doubtless  acquired  these  satirettes  which 
are  unworthy  of  the  poet,  lampoons  rather  than 
poems.  Verlaine  scribbed  them  off  to  amuse 
himself,  to  ease  his  spleen,  just  as  he  drew 
caricatures  on  the  margin  of  his  letters,  without 
attaching  any  importance  to  them.  One  laughs 
at  such  skits  among  friends,  and  never  thought 
that  these  improvisations,  often  unpolished,  and 
always  spiteful — except  two  or  three  pieces,  such 
as  the  famous  Ode  to  Metz,  inserted  by  the 
publisher  to  lengthen  the  volume — would  ever  go 
beyond  the  circle  of  caf6  companions. 

Pressed  for  money  on  certain  days  of  idleness 
and  great  thirst,  Verlaine  "tapped"  his  publisher, 
who,  "on  principle"  he  said,  would  not  part  with 
10  francs  except  in  exchange  for  a  morsel  of  copy. 


LAST  YEARS  435 

Then  Verlaine  took  out  of  his  portfolio  an  Invective, 
or  perhaps  improvised  one  in  a  neighbouring  cafe", 
and  the  publisher  handed  over  the  coveted  pelf. 

But  at  least  half  of  this  poetic  dross  should 
have  been  rejected  by  the  crucible.  The  Invectives 
might  have  been  quoted  in  the  back  part  of  a 
brasserie  by  poets  and  poetasters,  but  their  appear- 
ance in  daylight  was  treason  to  the  memory  of 
the  poet,  and  created  an  obstacle,  surmountable 
doubtless,  but  serious  to  his  glorification  in  public 
places.  For  instance,  Senator  Cazot,  treasurer  of 
the  Senate,  believing  himself  badly  treated  in  one 
of  the  Invectives,  under  the  guise  of  the  Magistrate 
Cazeaux,  prevented  the  placing  of  a  bust  of  the 
poet  in  the  Luxembourg  Gardens. 

Verlaine  once  had  for  a  moment  the  idea  of 
presenting  himself  for  election  to  the  Academy, 
with  no  intention  of  irreverence  towards  that 
learned  company.  Rather  was  it  an  act  of  homage 
on  the  part  of  the  Bohemian  poet,  for  that  Institu- 
tion is  more  often  than  not  attacked  and  ridiculed 
by  the  juvenile  circles  of  the  Quartier.  I  did  my 
best  to  dissuade  him,  and  took  the  trouble  to 
explain  to  the  public  in  an  article  in  the  Echo  de 
Paris,  that  in  my  opinion  Verlaine  had  every 
literary  right  to  a  seat  under  the  cupola  between 
his  friends,  Frangois  Coppe"e  and  Jose"-  Maria  de 
Heredia,  but  that  there  were  indispensable  con- 
ditions regarding  regularity  of  life,  etc.,  which  the 
candidate  was  unable  to  fulfil,  and  which  would 
therefore  prevent  his  election. 

Verlaine,  at  first  dissatisfied  both  with  advice 
and  article,  quickly  came  round  to  my  point  of 
view,  and  thanking  me,  gave  up  the  idea.  As  a 


436  PAUL  VERLAINE 

poet  of  superior  merit,  as  a  powerful  and  original 
writer  Verlaine  assuredly  merited  admission,  but 
his  Bohemian  life,  his  errors  of  conduct  and  ill 
repute  rendered  his  candidature  impossible.  It 
must  not  be  forgotten  that  Leconte  de  Lisle 
having  died,  Verlaine  had  been  singled  out,  by 
the  votes  of  a  large  number  of  poets,  as  his 
successor  to  the  title  "  Prince  of  Poets."  He  who 
was  the  object  of  so  flattering  and  well-merited 
an  election  might  very  well  also  be  considered 
entitled  to  succeed  Leconte  de  Lisle  in  his  seat 
in  the  Academy. 

The  following  letter  gives  Verlaine's  opinion 
on  the  matter: 

"My  DEAR  EDMOND, —  I  thank  you  with  all  my 
heart  for  your  article  of  three  days  ago.  It 
delighted  and  touched  me.  A  thousand  and  a 
thousand  very  sincere  and  hearty  hand-shakes,  I 
assure  you. 

"  Certainly,  yes  I  shall  be  happy  to  see  you. 
I  am  always  here  and  do  not  leave  my  room  yet. 
But  the  afternoon  is  best ;  in  the  morning  there 
are  hindrances,  and  in  the  evening  I  go  to  roost, 
like  the  chickens. 

"You  will  receive  a  book  from  M.  de  Mon- 
tesquieu, a  very  devoted  and  very  kind  friend  of 
mine,  to  whom  you  will  give  great  pleasure  as 
well  as  to  myself  by  speaking  of  his  book,  Le 
Parcours  du  R£ve  au  Souvenir,  as  it  merits,  in  one 
of  your  next  articles.  .  .  . 

"  I  naturally  wrote  the  desired  article  on  M.  de 
Montesquieu,  who,  with  Maurice  Barres  and  some 
others  of  our  friends,  often  replenished  the  poet's 
empty  purse." 

Several   detailed    articles    in    newspapers    and 


LAST  YEARS  437 

magazines  and  even  a  volume  ( Verlaine  Intime) 
have  appeared,  which  give  a  complete  idea  of  these 
last  years  of  the  poet.  His  feminine  liaisons  of 
this  period  have  been  recounted  with  a  great  many 
anecdotes  by  his  latest  friends.  Although  to  the 
end  I  maintained  the  happiest  relations  with 
Verlaine,  I  saw  him  less  during  these  last  years. 
Greatly  occupied,  I  could  not  follow  him  in  his 
interminable  peregrinations  among  the  cafe's  and 
wine-shops  of  the  Boul'  Mich*  and  the  Rue  de 
Vaugirard.  I  went,  however,  from  time  to  time, 
to  "  visit "  him  at  the  Frangois  Premier,  Cafe*  Rouge, 
and  Miirger,  and  he  came  to  have  a  drink  with 
me  fairly  often  in  the  near  neighbourhood  of  my 
Editorial  Offices ;  also  I  helped  him  to  the  insertion 
of  some  articles.  His  correspondence  with  me, 
therefore,  did  not  amount  to  much,  and  consisted 
principally  of  postcards  or  notes  sent  by  hand  "to 
await  reply,"  which  contained  little  beyond  the 
suggestion  of  an  appointment,  demand  for  money, 
or  thanks.  He  also  invited  me  to  his  literary 
Wednesdays,  very  modest  but  interesting  evenings, 
which  combined  originality  of  discussion  with  excess 
of  certain  appreciations. 

A  rather  curious  photograph,  serving  as  pro- 
spectus to  F.-A.  Cazal's  work  on  Paul  Verlaine, 
represents  the  poet's  salon  with  the  following 
assistants :  Mmes.  Rachilde  and  Sophie  Harlay, 
MM.  Jean  Moreas,  Villiers  de  1'Isle  -  Adam, 
Laurent  Tailhade,  Gabriel  Vicaire,  Henri  d'Argis, 
F.  Clerget,  F.-A.  Cazals,  Ary  Renan,  A.  Desvaux, 
Jules  Tellier,  Paterne  Berrichon.  It  is  entitled : 
Une  Soiree  chez  Paul  Verlaine  in  1889. 

There  were  others  invited  to  this  salon  of  the 


438  PAUL  VERLAINE 

Rue  Royer-Collard,  from  the  hospitals,  and  from 
the  tables  of  the  Francois  Premier,  Miirger,  and 
Cafe"  Rouge,  where  Verlaine  usually  held  his  recep- 
tions :  Saint-Georges  de  Bouhe"lier,  Raymond  de  la 
Tailhede,  Georges  de  Lys,  Jacques  des  Gachons, 
Maurice  Leblond,  Albert  Grandin,  Emile  Ble"mont, 
Raymond  Maygrier,  Ernest  Raynaud,  Pierre 
Devoluy,  Le"on  Durocher,  Raoul  Gineste,  Stuart 
Merrill,  Adolphe  Rette",  Gustave  Kahn,  Xavier 
Privas,  Adrien  Mithouard,  Le"on  Deschamps, 
Achille  Se'gard,  Signoret,  Maurice  du  Plessys,  etc. 

He  had  some  fairly  happy  periods  of  work  and 
better  health.  Once  he  gave  a  series  of  lectures 
in  Holland  and  Belgium,  which  had  a  certain 
success,  partly  owing  to  curiosity  and  partly  to 
the  clever  way  in  which  matters  were  arranged 
for  him  ;  for  Verlaine  was  only  a  mediocre  orator. 
He  recognised  this  himself  when  describing  his 
tour.  He  read,  always  an  unpleasing  thing  to  do, 
and  in  a  weak,  hoarse  voice.  He  was,  however, 
thanks  to  excellent  and  enthusiastic  friends,  very 
well  received,  and  brought  back  some  money  with 
him.  But  this  was  rather  disastrous  than  otherwise, 
both  to  his  health  and  powers  of  production,  for 
affection  and  revelry  on  the  part  of  his  companions, 
as  was  their  wont  when  the  poet  had  money  in 
his  pocket,  followed  upon  his  profitable  tour  in  the 
Low  Countries. 

As  I  said,  anecdotal  and  indiscreet  details  of 
Verlaine's  notorious  mistresses  have  already  been 
given  to  the  public  ;  they  were  all  vulgar,  illiterate, 
belonging  to  the  lowest  strata  of  the  Quartier's 
temptresses;  but  Verlaine  was  not  discriminating, 
and  then  he  had  known  so  little  of  women !  It  was 


LAST  YEARS  439 

not  until  after  he  was  forty  that  he  attached  himself 
to  any  one  in  particular  ;  moreover,  a  certain  adapta- 
bility was  necessary  to  enable  these  gay  companions 
to  accommodate  themselves  to  the  caprices,  whims, 
irritations,  and  even  violences  of  the  poet  when  he 
was  under  the  evil  influence  of  alcohol. 

One  of  them,  named  Philomene,  seems  to  have 
been  rather  amiable,  gentle,  and  sisterly  to  him  ; 
but  fickle  and  ungrateful,  the  poet  left  her  for  a 
big,  stout,  Ardennaise,  who  looked  as  if  she  had 
been  hewn  with  a  hatchet  out  of  a  hard  block  of 
wood,  and  with  fingers  like  sausages,  which  could, 
however,  be  curved  on  occasion.  This  rustic,  called 
Esther,  extorted  from  him  all  the  money  of  which 
she  felt  him  to  be  possessed ;  when  his  pocket 
was  empty  she  disappeared,  safe  to  return  when 
Verlaine  published  another  volume  or  had  some 
articles  accepted  in  the  press.  She  always  heard  of 
these  windfalls ;  perhaps  some  of  the  poet's  young 
friends  informed  her.  She  came  like  a  butterfly  on 
fine  days,  no  unusual  characteristic  of  Verlaine's  loves. 

The  best  known  mistress  of  the  poet,  she  who 
accompanied  him  longest,  and  closed  his  eyes, 
was  Eugenie  Krantz.  She,  too,  squeezed  the  un- 
fortunate man,  but  she  made  him  work.  Covetous 
and  provident,  she  knew  that  the  day  after  she 
had  kept  him  at  work  like  an  ox  at  the  plough, 
the  lines,  poetic  and  prose,  hastily  scrawled  by 
Paul,  could  be  exchanged  at  the  newspaper  or 
publisher's  office  for  silver,  and  sometimes  gold, 
to  find  their  way  immediately  afterwards  to  the 
nearest  wine  -  shop.  The  lecture  tour  having 
resulted  in  unexpected  prosperity,  Eugenie  Krantz 
radiated  amiability.  Verlaine,  loving  tranquillity, 
hating  scenes,  and  having  retained  at  heart  some 


440  PAUL  VERLAINE 

of  a  citizen's  prejudices,  conceived  the  odd  idea, 
during  a  tipsy  reconciliation  after  a  violent  quarrel, 
of  marrying  this  woman. 

He  wrote  to  her  from  England : 

"Do  you  speak  seriously  of  marriage?  If  so, 
you  will  procure  me  the  greatest  pleasure  of  my 
life !  We  will  go  to  the  mayor's  when  you  will  ? 
It  is  besides  the  surest  means  of  assuring  you 
something  certain  after  my  death.  My  dear  one, 
these  have  always  been  my  ideas!  I  love  only 
you,  and  how  much !  .  .  ." 

The  letter  finishes  thus : 

"  Your  will  is  mine :  I  know  too  well  what  it 
would  cost  me  not  to  obey  you ;  you  are  always 
right.  .  .  .  We  shall  meet  soon,  dear  woman.  I 
embrace  you  and  love  you  with  all  my  heart ! " 
(Verlaine  Intime — Charles  Donos,  page  235.) 

This  woman  tranquilly  deceived  him.  She  was 
denounced  by  her  rival,  Philomene  Boudin,  and 
there  was  trouble  between  the  two.  When  he  came 
out  of  hospital  Paul  found  sometimes  Philomene 
and  sometimes  Eugenie.  The  former  had  a  defect 
in  his  eyes ;  she  was  married,  while  the  other 
woman  was  free.  Consequently  Eugenie  could 
more  easily  post  herself  at  the  entrance  and  seize 
hold  of  the  poet  when  he  came  out  with  money  in 
his  pocket.  Philomene  was  always  unlucky ;  but 
she  never  complained.  Provided  Paul  had  enough 
to  pay  for  a  modest  dinner  accompanied  by  libations 
somewhere  in  the  Quartier,  she  was  quite  content 
and  amiable. 

When  his  last  attack  of  rheumatism  came  on, 
feeling  perhaps  that  his  end  was  near,  he  would 


EUGENIE   KRANTZ  441 

not  return  to  the  hospital,  but  made  up  his  mind 
to  remain  where  he  was,  and,  as  he  had  some 
money,  begged  Eugenie  to  engage  a  nurse.  He 
thus  avoided  charitable  assistance,  the  thought  of 
which  was  now  distasteful  to  him.  Verlaine,  in  spite 
of  his  vagabond  existence  and  Bohemian  ways, 
had  retained  a  citizen's  respect  for  the  proprieties, 
and  the  hospital,  tolerable,  even  agreeable,  in  his 
eyes  as  a  place  of  repose,  shelter,  and  cure,  seemed 
to  him  an  unbecoming  place  for  death  ;  this  prejudice 
he  avowed  to  me  on  several  occasions. 

Therefore,  although  Eugenie  Krantz  was  far 
from  the  worthy,  faithful,  devoted  companion  she 
ought  to  have  been,  and  although  personally  I  have 
a  grudge  against  her  for  failing  to  warn  me  in  time 
of  my  friend's  severe  illness,  I  feel  grateful  to  her 
and  forgive  her  much  because  she  allowed  Verlaine 
to  die  in  a  room  he  could  regard  as  his  own.  He 
did  not  desire  the  melodramatic  ending  of  a  Gilbert 
or  Malfilatre.  His  last  efforts  were  exerted  to 
prevent  his  death  taking  place  in  a  bed  supplied 
by  Government.  What  irony  of  fate  that  a  great 
poet,  son  of  an  officer  in  the  army,  and  a  well- 
dowered  mother,  should  owe  it  to  a  chance  meeting 
at  a  counter  with  a  woman  whose  favours  were  for 
sale,  that  he  did  not  have  to  render  up  his  soul  to 
God  in  one  of  those  great  caravansaries.  Thanks 
to  this  creature,  task-mistress  as  much  as  lover, 
who  had  deceived,  ill-treated,  and  despoiled  him, 
and  was  incapable  of  comprehending  or  admiring 
him,  he  was  not,  in  the  supreme  hour  a  mere  number, 
a  bundle  of  cold  flesh  to  be  taken  to  the  dissecting- 
room,  if  his  friends  did  not  arrive  with  sufficient 
rapidity  to  claim  his  remains.  He  expired  in  a, 


442  PAUL   VERLAINE 

private  room,  among  familiar  objects,  having  under 
his  eyes  and  at  hand  the  ordinary  accessories  of 
his  daily  life,  which  made  up  the  desired  illusion 
of  a  home.  To  complete  this  illusion  he  only 
lacked  the  presence  of  old  and  dear  friends,  such 
as  Coppe"e  and  myself,  and  his  son  Georges.  His 
son,  ill  when  he  had  completed  his  military  service, 
was  not,  indeed,  able  to  be  present  either  at  the 
death  of  his  father  or  his  obsequies.  He  had  been 
attacked  by  some  kind  of  congestion,  the  effect,  it 
appeared,  of  hypnotic  experiences. 

Mme.  Delporte,  Verlaine's  re  -  married  wife, 
afterwards  stated  the  following  facts  with  regard 
to  her  son  Georges : 

"  My  husband,  myself,  and  my  two  little  children 
left  Algeria  at  the  beginning  of  July,  leaving  Georges, 
who  loved  the  country,  and  desired  to  remain  there. 
I  gave  him  a  small  sum  of  money,  which  would 
suffice  for  his  modest  wants  for  several  months. 
Suddenly,  in  a  few  weeks  he  found  himself  denuded 
of  everything.  He  lost  his  memory  ;  when  he  was 
spoken  to  he  appeared  to  awaken  abruptly  ;  he  had 
the  automatic  gestures,  the  entirely  different  voice, 
and  the  manners  of  a  somnambulist. 

"  He  was  taken  to  the  hospital.  Treated  by  sug- 
gestion he  was  cured.  Feeling  himself  recovered, 
and  the  time  having  come  for  his  military  service, 
he  would  not  take  advantage  of  the  law  which  makes 
one  year  of  service  only  compulsory  for  Algerians. 
He  went  to  Lille,  and  was  incorporated  in  a 
regiment,  but,  unhappily,  he  had  been  allowed  to 
depart  too  soon,  before  his  cure  was  complete,  and 
a  lethargic  slumber  again  overtook  him. 

"Well  cared  for,  he  recovered,  but  his  case 
interested  the  doctors  by  its  singularity,  and  he 
was  kept  under  observation. 


DEATH   IN  THE  RUE   DESCARTES  443 

"He  was  to  have  left  in  the  first  days  of  January, 
but  was  not  allowed  to  depart  until  the  i3th,  too 
late,  therefore,  to  assist  at  the  obsequies  of  his 
father." 

Georges  Verlaine,  an  amiable  and  rather  melan- 
choly young  man,  acquired  an  unbounded  admira- 
tion and  very  vivid  posthumous  affection  for  his 
father.  He  had  for  a  long  time  been  possessed 
with  the  desire  to  see  him.  He  had  written  to 
him,  and,  but  for  his  illness,  would  certainly  have 
been  present  not  only  at  his  funeral  but  also  at  his 
death-bed.  Fate  intervened  between  father  and  son. 
Mme.  Delporte,  the  heroine  of  La  Bonne  Chanson^ 
protested  against  the  idea  that  she  hindered  the 
meeting  of  the  two. 

"  During  the  twenty- three  years  that  I  had  not 
seen  Verlaine,"  she  wrote,  "  I  had  time  to  forget 
the  bad  days,  and  in  the  ten  years  since  I  married 
again  and  became  happy  I  certainly  forgave  him. 
It  is,  therefore,  an  error  for  the  newspapers  to 
declare  that  I  systematically  kept  Georges  from 
him." 

I  will  not  dispute  this  statement ;  the  ex-Mme. 
Verlaine  is  not  a  spiteful  person.  She  has  always 
been  very  good  to  her  son.  It  may  even  be  pre- 
sumed that  she  has  not  remained  indifferent  to  the 
fame  of  the  man  whose  name  she  bore,  and  it  is 
possible  that  during  the  last  month  she  consented 
to,  and  even  facilitated,  their  drawing  together. 
But  as  we  have  seen  from  Verlaine's  correspon- 
dence and  the  narration  of  his  history,  he  asked  in 
vain  for  his  son's  address.  It  was  always  concealed 
from  him,  and  the  joy  of  embracing  his  son  was 
never  his. 


444  PAUL   VERLAINE 

It  was  on  opening  the  newspaper  one  morning 
that  I  suddenly  became  aware,  without  any  prepara- 
tion, of  Paul  Verlaine's  death.  I  learned  afterwards 
that  he  asked  for  me  and  Frangois  Coppe'e  in  his 
last  moments.  His  illness  had  been  kept  from  us, 
and  no  telegram  was  received.  Some  time  had 
passed  since  I  had  heard  anything  of  the  poet ;  but 
in  the  vortex  of  work  and  business  matters,  not 
having  time  to  visit  him,  I  reassured  myself  with 
the  proverb,  "  No  news  is  good  news,"  that  no 
aggravation  had  occurred  in  the  ailing  condition  to 
which  he  was  only  too  much  accustomed. 

On  returning  home  after  the  funeral  I  found  a 
piece  of  paper,  wrongly  addressed,  informing  me 
that  if  I  wished  to  see  my  friend,  Paul  Verlaine, 
for  the  last  time,  I  had  only  to  go  to  the  Rue 
Descartes.  This  advice,  in  any  case  very  late, 
was  signed  by  Eugenie  Krantz,  the  companion  of 
the  poet's  last  days,  in  whose  presence  he  breathed 
his  last.  She  did  not  long  survive  Verlaine. 
Alcoholism,  facilitated  by  the  sale  of  certain  auto- 
graphs and  rare  papers  of  the  poet's,  she  had  put 
on  one  side,  in  particular  a  fragment  of  Louis XVII. , 
carried  her  off  rapidly. 

I  hurried  off  as  soon  as  I  had  learned  the  fatal 
news,  to  No.  39  Rue  Descartes,  where  I  found  my 
old  friend  reposing  in  the  immobility  of  death. 
Deeply  moved,  I  imprinted  a  last  kiss  on  his  icy 
forehead.  The  lodging  was  poor,  but  clean  and 
light,  looking  on  the  street.  At  the  back  a  recess 
served  as  a  dining-room. 

With  some  of  the  poet's  friends  I  undertook  the 
charge  of  the  obsequies,  and  arranged  with  the 
cure  of  Saint-Etienne-du-Mont  for  the  religious 


FUNERAL 


445 


service.  M.  Le*on  Vanier  had  already  made  some 
arrangements  ;  but  they  seemed  insufficient  consider- 
ing the  religious  sentiments  of  the  deceased  and 
the  numbers  who  would  probably  attend.  Indeed 
the  register  placed  in  the  humble  lodge  of  the 
concierge  of  the  Rue  Descartes  was  filled  with  the 
signatures  of  men  in  every  class  of  life,  from 
the  highest  aristocrats  of  literature  to  workmen 
whom  Verlaine  had  known  in  hospital  and  the 
Cour  Moreau. 

Let  me  say  here  that  M.  L£on  Vanier  did 
not  pay  the  expenses  of  Verlaine's  funeral  as  has 
often  been  claimed.  They  were  met  by  the  sum 
of  500  francs  handed  over  in  the  name  of  the 
Minister  of  Public  Instruction  and  the  Fine  Arts, 
by  M.  Roujon,  who  told  me  so  himself  on  the  day 
of  the  funeral.  Further  expenses,  particularly  the 
augmentation  of  the  religious  service,  were  met 
by  subscriptions  from  friends. 

The  invitations  to  the  funeral,  sent  out  by 
M.  Vanier,  ran  as  follows  : 

"You  are  invited  to  take  part  in  the  procession, 
service,  and  interment  of  M.  Paul  Verlaine,  poet, 
who  died  on  8th  January  1896,  fortified  by  the 
Sacraments  of  the  Church,  at  his  residence,  39  Rue 
Descartes,  aged  52,  which  will  take  place  on  Friday, 
the  loth  inst.,  at  ten  o'clock  precisely,  in  the  Church 
of  Saint-Etienne-du-Mont,  his  parish. 

"  De  Profundis. 

11  Friends  will  assemble  at  the  house  of  death. 

"On  the  part  of  M.  Georges  Verlaine,  his  son, 
M.  Ch.  de  Sivry,  his  brother-in-law,  his  publisher, 
his  friends,  and  admirers. 

"The  interment  will  take  place  in  the  cemetery 
of  the  Batignolles. " 


446  PAUL  VERLAINE 

The  Verlaine  family  possessed  a  lot  in  perpetuity 
in  this  suburban  cemetery,  where  only  in  excep- 
tional cases  do  funerals  now  take  place,  and  which 
is  situated  on  the  right  of  the  Avenue  de  Clichy, 
outside  the  fortifications. 

The  newspapers  sent  reporters  to  the  Rue 
Descartes,  and  artists  and  photographers  made 
sketches.  A  very  good  death-mask  was  obtained 
by  his  friend  Cazals. 

The  day  of  the  funeral  was  cold  and  bright. 
After  the  religious  service,  which  was  celebrated 
at  the  High  Altar  with  chants  and  music,  the 
great  organ  being  played  by  M.  Faure*,  the  pro- 
cession set  out  across  Paris  for  the  Batignolles. 
The  corners  of  the  pall  were  held  by  MM.  Maurice 
Barres,  Frangois  Coppee,  Edmond  Lepelletier, 
Catulle  Mendes,  and  Robert  de  Montesquieu. 

Charles  de  Sivry,  in  the  absence  of  Georges 
Verlaine,  headed  the  mourners. 

The  funeral  orations  were  as  follows  : 

M.  MAURICE  BARRES. 

"The  youth  of  literature  place  upon  this  tomb 
the  tribute  of  their  admiration.  Paul  Verlaine 
had  neither  official  position,  wealth,  nor  influential 
friends.  He  did  not  belong  to  the  Academy.  .  .  . 
He  was  an  exile  who  consoled  himself  very  simply 
with  the  first  comer  from  '!' Academic  Saint  Jacques' 
or  the  last  arrivals  in  letters. 

"  We  shall  no  longer  have  the  good  fortune  to 
meet  this  popular  figure,  but  the  essential  part  of 
him  was  his  power  to  feel  and  the  accents  that 
communicated  his  sorrows  and  his  flights,  French 
to  the  core,  imbued  with  those  tender  and  thrilling 
beauties  which  have  no  analogy  except,  in  another 


FUNERAL  447 

art,  in  The  Embarkation  for  Cythera.     All  this  still 
lives  ...  in  all  of  us  here  present. 

"That  is  why  we  do  not  come  to  bewail  his 
genius  .  .  .  but  to  assert   it.     Much   homage  has 
youth  rendered   for   the   last   twelve   years  to  the 
master,  Paul  Verlaine,   but   now  we   bring   a   still 
more  solemn  testimony  to  this  place,  where  we  are 
joined  in  spirit  by  the  literary  youth  of  other  lands. 
The  constant  fidelity  of  the  younger  generation  to 
the  master,  whom  all  the  critics  ignored  or  abused, 
is  an  important   fact,   the   significance  of  which   I 
wish  to  emphasise.     If  it  is  admitted,  as  we  main- 
tain,  that   hero-worship   makes   the  strength  of  a 
country,    and   upholds    the    tradition   of  a   nation, 
literary   men   and   artists    must   be   placed   in   the 
front  rank  of  those  who  thus  uphold  their  country 
and  their  race.     No  others  in  social  life  proclaim 
so   unmistakably   the    perpetuity   of    individuality. 
When  a  great  administrator,  official,  manufacturer, 
or   soldier    dies,    it    is    the    end    of    his    personal 
existence.       His    effort,    however    useful    it    may 
have  been,  is  dissipated  among  anonymous  work. 
He   leaves   behind   him   only   silence   and   a   little 
dust  in  the  cemetery.     What  light  does  he  furnish 
to  the  Frenchman  who  wishes  to  know  himself,  to 
see  his  way?     But  Verlaine,  linked  with  Frangois 
Villon   by   the    freedom    and    the    charm    of    his 
genius,  helps  us  to  comprehend  one  of  the  principal 
tendencies   of    the    French   type.       Henceforward, 
his  ideas  will  take  their  place  among  those  which 
constitute   the   national   heritage.     And   thanks  to 
whom  has  this  augmentation  of  the  French  ideal 
been  realised?     To  the  younger  generation. 

"It  is  by  our  constant  propaganda,  our  generous 
love,  our  active  clear-sightedness,  that  the  work  of 
Paul  Verlaine,  repulsed  by  his  friends  and  rivals — 
save  some  to  whom  public  opinion  renders  homage 
— has  triumphed  over  the  obstacles  which  in  1890 


448  PAUL  VERLAINE 

might  have  seemed  insurmountable.  The  unani- 
mous homage  rendered  to-day  to  the  illustrious 
dead  is  the  multiplied  echo  of  the  opinions  of  the 
literary  youth  of  the  Quartier  Latin. 

"  Let  us,  therefore,  now  cease  to  be  accused 
of  systematic  negation.  We  are  the  beginning 
of  our  elders'  immortality,  and  transport  in  our 
barque  only  the  shades  of  those  we  recognise  as 
benefactors  of  our  intelligence." 

M.  FRANCOIS  COPPEE 

"MESSIEURS, — Let  us  salute  respectfully  the 
tomb  of  a  true  poet,  and  bow  ourselves  before  the 
coffin  of  a  child. 

"  We  had  hardly  passed  the  twentieth  year 
when  we  became  acquainted,  Paul  Verlaine  and 
I,  when  we  exchanged  our  first  confidences,  and 
read  our  earliest  verses.  I  see  once  more  our  two 
heads  bent  fraternally  over  the  same  page  ;  and  once 
more  I  experience  in  all  their  youthful  ardour,  our 
admirations,  our  enthusiasms,  our  dreams.  We 
were  two  children,  going  confidently  towards  the 
future.  But  Verlaine  never  encountered  experience, 
that  cold  and  sure  companion  who  takes  us  roughly 
by  the  hand  and  leads  us  along  the  rugged  road. 
He  remained  a  child  always. 

"Shall  we  complain  of  this?  It  is  a  grievous 
thing  to  grow  wise,  to  run  no  more  along  the  free 
road  of  the  imagination  for  fear  of  falling,  to  gather 
no  more  roses  of  delight  for  fear  of  thorns,  nor 
touch  the  butterfly  of  desire  lest  we  should  crush 
it  in  our  fingers.  Happy  the  child  who,  falling 
roughly  and  picking  himself  up  with  tears, 
immediately  forgets  the  trouble  and  the  pain,  and 
opens  anew  his  eyes,  still  wet  with  tears,  but  eager 
and  delighted,  to  nature  and  to  life !  Happy  also 
the  poet,  who,  like  our  poor  friend  here,  preserves 
his  child's  heart,  his  freshness  of  sensation,  his 


FUNERAL 


449 


instinctive  need  of  love,  who  sins  without  per- 
versity, sincerely  repents,  loves  frankly,  believes 
in  God  to  whom  he  humbly  prays  in  hours  of 
darkness,  and  naively  voices  all  he  thinks  and 
feels,  with  charming  innocence,  and  ignorance  full 
of  grace ! 

"  Happy  that  poet !  I  venture  to  repeat  it  even 
while  I  recall  how  Paul  Verlaine  suffered  in  his 
sick  body  and  sad  heart,  Alas !  even  as  a  child 
he  was  without  defence,  and  life  often,  and  cruelly, 
wounded  him ;  but  suffering  is  the  ransom  of 
genius,  a  word  which  must  be  pronounced  in 
speaking  of  Verlaine,  for  his  name  will  always 
awaken  the  remembrance  of  an  absolutely  new 
poetry,  which  has  assumed  in  French  literature 
the  importance  of  a  discovery. 

"  Yes,  Verlaine  created  a  poetry  which  was  his 
alone,  an  inspiration  at  once  naive  and  subtle,  all 
made  up  of  shades  evoking  the  most  delicate 
vibrations  of  the  nerves,  the  most  fugitive  echoes 
of  the  heart,  yet,  very  natural,  a  poetry  fresh  from 
its  source  sometimes  even  almost  popular  ;  a  poetry 
in  which  the  metre,  free  and  broken,  preserves  a 
delicious  harmony,  while  the  stanzas  sway  and  sing 
like  the  song  of  a  child,  and  the  lines,  most  exquisite, 
are  full  of  music.  And  in  this  inimitable  poetry 
he  has  told  us  of  all  his  ardours,  faults,  remorse, 
tenderness,  and  dreams,  showing  us,  meanwhile, 
his  heart  troubled  yet  innocent. 

"Such  poems  are  created  to  live,  and  I  aver 
that  the  companions  of  Paul  Verlaine's  youth,  who 
have  put  all  their  effort  into  their  art,  would 
renounce  the  sweets  and  vanities  of  a  happy  life, 
and  accept  *  Pauvre  Lelian's '  days  without  bread 
and  nights  without  shelter,  if  they  were  certain  to 
leave  behind  them,  as  he  has  done,  pages  that 
will  never  die,  and  to  see  the  immortal  laurel 
bloom  upon  their  tomb. 

2  F 


450  PAUL  VERLAINE 

"The  work  of  Paul  Verlaine  will  live.  As  to 
his  lamented  dead  body,  we  can  only,  in  thought, 
associate  ourselves  with  the  touching  prayers  of 
the  Christian  Church,  but  now  recited,  which 
demand  for  the  dead  only  rest,  eternal  rest. 

"  Adieu,  poor  and  glorious  poet,  who,  like  the 
leaves,  has  trembled  more  often  than  sung ;  adieu, 
unhappy  friend,  whom  I  have  always  loved,  and 
who  did  not  forget  me.  In  your  death  agony 
you  asked  for  me,  and  I  arrived  too  late.  .  .  . 
But  your  heart  and  mine  have  always  believed 
in  a  state  of  peace  and  light,  in  which  we  shall 
all  be  pardoned  and  purified — for  who  will  have 
the  hypocrisy  to  proclaim  himself  innocent  and 
pure? — and  there,  in  the  fulfilment  of  our  ideal, 
I  will  answer  you :  here  I  am ! " 

M.  CATULLE  MENDES. 

"PAUL  VERLAINE, — On  the  borders  of  night, 
through  my  voice,  the  sorrow  of  the  brethren  of 
your  youth  says  to  you :  *  Adieu/  and  their 
admiration  :  *  for  ever.' 

"  You  passed  away  in  suffering.  Your  martyr- 
dom is  finished.  May  your  God  give  you  what 
you  hoped  for !  But  among  us  your  fame  remains, 
imperishable ;  for  you  have  built  up  a  monument 
like  unto  none  other.  By  shallow,  marble  steps, 
through  the  melancholy  whispering  of  the  rose 
bays,  we  mount  to  a  great  white  chapel  wherein 
fair  wax  tapers  shine!  And  as  the  kingdom  of 
heaven  belongs  to  the  poor  in  spirit,  so  the 
kingdom  of  fame  belongs  to  the  simple  in  genius. 

'  We  love  you  and  lament  you,  poor  dead. 
We  adore  you,  pure  immortal." 

M.  ST^PHANE  MALLARME. 
"The  tomb  loves  silence. 
"  Acclamation,  renown,  eloquence  cease,  and  the 


FUNERAL  451 

sob  of  poetry  abandoned,  does  not  follow  to  the 
place  of  quietness  the  one  who  hides  himself  here, 
that  he  may  not  dim  his  glory  with  a  presence. 

" .  .  .  Yes,  the  Fetes  Galantes,  La  Bonne 
Chanson,  Sagesse,  Amour,  and  Parallelement  will 
be  poured  out,  from  generation  to  generation,  when 
youthful  lips  open  for  an  hour,  in  a  melodious  stream 
quenching  their  thirst  with  an  immortal  flow  of 
exquisite  French  .  .  .  Paul  Verlaine,  his  genius 
soaring  into  the  future,  remains  a  hero.  Alone 
...  an  example  the  centuries  can  rarely  furnish, 
our  contemporary  faced  in  all  its  terror  the  state 
of  the  singer  and  dreamer,  for  solitude,  cold,  dis- 
comfort, poverty  ordinarily  make  up  the  fate  of 
him  who  with  ingenuous  hardihood  walks  through 
life  according  to  his  inspiration.  .  .  .  With  this 
homage,  Verlaine,  we  salute  your  remains  in  all 
reverence." 

M.  JEAN  MOREAS. 

"  MESSIEURS, — If  I  speak  before  this  tomb,  it 
is  as  one  of  Paul  Verlaine's  oldest  friends  among 
those  who  are  called  the  poets  of  the  new  school. 
But  let  us  leave  schools  alone.  To-morrow  we  can, 
we  must  take  up  quarrels  again.  To-day,  here, 
there  is  only  one  thing — poetry ;  and,  Messieurs, 
from  the  latest  classics  to  Victor  Hugo,  from  Victor 
Hugo  to  Leconte  de  Lisle,  from  Leconte  de  Lisle 
to  the  youngest  amongst  us,  even  as  from  Villon 
to  Ronsard,  from  Ronsard  to  Malherbe  and  Jean 
Racine,  this  poetry,  the  poetry  of  the  French,  invites 
us  to  lament  the  loss  of  one  of  its  greatest  exponents. 

And  certainly,  Messieurs,  the  author  of  Sagesse, 
Jadis  et  Naguere,  and  Amour  must  be  admired  as  an 
illustrious  poet  in  the  absolute  sense  of  the  word, 
and,  moreover,  if  our  muses  are  to  go  back  to 
classical  tastes,  we  can,  I  think,  consider  Verlaine  as 
one  of  the  most  genuine  artisans  of  the  happy  return. 


452  PAUL   VERLAINE 

"  Adieu,  therefore,  Paul  Verlaine,  and  whatever 
may  be  the  divers  chances  which  await  poetry  in 
your  country  of  France,  your  name  will  not  perish." 

M.  GUSTAVE  KAHN. 

"  I  have  not  come  here  with  a  speech  prepared, 
I  desire  merely  in  my  name,  and  those  of  other 
poets  younger  than  I,  to  bid  a  last  adieu  to  the 
most  profound,  most  tender,  most  exquisite  of 
French  singers  ;  the  one  whom  we  have  loved  most 
of  all.  Adieu,  Paul  Verlaine,  adieu.  ..." 

These,  with  a  few  words  from  myself,  are  the 
orations,  sincere  and  eloquent,  which  were  pro- 
nounced over  the  tomb  of  Paul  Verlaine. 

Verlaine's  friends  have  formed  themselves  into 
a  committee  for  the  purpose  of  raising  a  monument 
to  him.  The  anniversary  of  his  death  was  cele- 
brated with  a  certain  ceremony.  An  important 
religious  service  was  held  at  Sainte  -  Cloth ilde, 
followed  by  a  visit  to  Verlaine's  tomb  in  the 
cemetery  of  the  Batignolles.  After  thanking  those 
present  I  said  a  few  words,  which  were  more  or 
less  as  follows.  I  quote  from  memory  : 

"  The  committee,  who  are  actively  endeavouring 
to  obtain  the  erection  of  a  monument  to  the  memory 
of  Paul  Verlaine,  believe  that  the  simplicity  of  this 
commemoration,  which  is  not  intended  to  be  a  mani- 
festation, will  recall  to  all  the  end  to  be  attained. 

"  The  better  part  of  Paul  Verlaine  is  not  here, 
hidden  in  the  fertile  earth  between  the  rows  of 
those  little  yews  of  which  he  has  sung.  It  is  around 
his  work  that  the  pilgrimage  of  posterity  must  be 
made,  and  before  the  bust  and  group  by  the  sculptor 
Niederhausern,  erected  on  the  soil  of  the  town  of 
Paris  in  a  corner  of  some  public  garden  that 


MONUMENT  TO   PAUL   VERLAINE          458 

Verlaine's  next  anniversary  should  be  celebrated. 
Except  for  the  family  and  some  particular  friends, 
the  tomb  in  the  cemetery  of  the  Batignolles  will 
receive  few  visitors.  The  anniversary  we  celebrate 
to-day  will,  we  greatly  hope,  be  the  last  assembly  of 
the  friends  and  admirers  of  the  poet  at  his  place  of 
repose.  It  is  among  the  living,  the  passing  genera- 
tions who  ought  to  know  his  name  and  admire  his 
work,  that  we  must  meet  to  do  honour  to  the  name 
of  Paul  Verlaine. 

"  Next  year  we  shall  doubtless  have  inaugurated 
the  monument,  and  thanked  the  subscribers,  chief 
of  whom  to  be  mentioned  and  congratulated  is 
M.  Leygues,  Minister  of  Public  Instruction  and 
the  Fine  Arts,  whose  considerable  subscription, 
1,000  francs,  will  permit  the  committee  to  clinch 
their  operations,  and  to  set  about  erecting  on  a 
site  chosen  or  generously  granted  by  the  Town  or 
the  Minister,  the  statue  of  the  poet.  Thus  his 
features  will  be  revived  for  the  multitude,  rescued 
by  the  permanence  of  sculpture  from  the  maw  of 
death. 

6 'Thus  will  be  completed  the  work  to  which 
Verlaine's  friends  and  devoted  admirers  have 
pledged  themselves.  The  undertaking  is  not  with- 
out its  difficulties.  Various  obstacles  have  arisen  : 
the  unfortunate  rivalry  of  the  publisher  Vanier 
wishing  to  act  on  his  side,  and  to  get  up  a 
subscription  and  a  monument  to  serve  as  an 
advertisement  for  his  house ;  the  annoying  and 
illicit  publication  of  certain  fragments  not  intended 
to  be  printed,  improvised  by  the  poet  for  his  own 
amusement,  and  regarded  by  him  simply  as  satirical 
or  humorous  autographs ;  and  finally,  loudly  hostile 
articles,  have  aroused  a  momentary  fear  of  the 
indefinite  postponement  of  the  monument. 

"  The  committee  has  happily  not  lost  confidence 
nor  relaxed  its  activity.  Its  president,  Ste"phane 


454  PAUL   VERLAINE 

Mallarme,  whom  we  have  had  the  misfortune  to 
lose  so  suddenly,  never  doubted  its  final  success. 
This  committee  has  to-day  at  its  head  the  illustrious 
sculptor  Rodin,  whose  presidentship  is  a  guarantee 
from  every  point  of  view,  and  especially  for  the 
artistic  value  of  the  work  we  are  to  place  before 
the  town  of  Paris  and  submit  to  the  public. 

"We  hope  to  find  the  funds  necessary  for  the 
completion  of  the  monument,  and  rely  upon  the 
sculptor,  to  whom  we  have  applied,  to  fulfil  his 
engagements,  and  present  us  in  due  time  with  a 
work  meriting  inauguration." 

Unhappily,  all  our  efforts  have  not  yet  yielded 
the  required  result. 

The  committee  is  now  composed  as  follows  : 

Auguste  Rodin,  president;  members:  MM. 
Maurice  Barres,  F.-A.  Cazals,  Leon  Dierx,  Ernest 
Delahaye,  Edmond  Lepelletier,  Natanson,  and 
Alfred  Vallette,  treasurer. 

I  asked  the  General  Council  of  the  Department 
of  the  Seine,  at  the  sitting  of  Friday,  I2th  July 
1901,  for  a  site  for  a  monument  to  be  raised  to 
Paul  Verlaine  in  the  square  of  the  Batignolles. 
This  place  was  chosen  because  Verlaine  passed 
his  youth  in  the  Batignolles.  There  he  composed 
his  first  verse,  and  his  mind  was  opened  to  the 
world  of  art,  and  there,  in  the  cemetery,  he  rests. 
My  proposition  was  submitted  to  the  Commission 
of  Instruction  and  the  Fine  Arts,  who  regarded  it 
favourably,  and  then  to  the  Third  Commission,  who 
dispose  of  sites  in  Paris. 

Nothing  has  resulted,  except  that  the  Municipal 
Council  of  Paris  have  given  the  name  of  Paul 
Verlaine  to  a  place  in  Paris  in  the  i3th  arrondisse- 


MONUMENT  TO   PAUL  VERLAINE  455 

ment :  a  beginning.  After  a  visit  to  the  cemetery 
of  the  Batignolles  on  the  anniversary  of  the  poet's 
death,  the  members  of  the  Committee,  headed  by 
M.  Leon  Dierx,  vice-president,  and  other  friends 
of  the  poet,  went  on  Sunday,  i3th  January  1907, 
to  the  Place  Paul  Verlaine,  and  speeches  were 
made  by  MM.  Louis  Dumoulin  and  Edmond 
Lepelletier. 

Victor  Hugo  did  not  receive  the  honours  of  a 
monument  until  fifteen  years  after  his  death.  Alfred 
de  Musset  has  only  recently  had  statues  erected. 
We  need  not,  therefore,  despair  for  Paul  Verlaine ; 
indeed  the  passing  of  the  years  is  favourable  to 
the  proper  perspective  of  his  glory.  But  the 
waiting  must  not  be  too  prolonged.  His  friends 
should  still  be  here,  and  those  who  knew  and 
loved  him,  behold  him  established  for  ever  in  the 
public  gaze.  It  is  for  them  to  fan  the  flame  of 
good -will,  to  hasten  forward  the  ceremony  of 
inauguration. 

While  awaiting  that  day,  which  I  hope  is  not 
far  distant,  I  have  raised  to  the  memory  and 
glory  of  my  dear  Paul  Verlaine  this  printed  tribute. 
This  book,  exact,  impartial,  and  sincere,  may  help 
to  point  out  and  explain  the  statue  of  Paul  Verlaine, 
which,  for  the  honour  of  French  literature  must  be 
raised  in  Paris. 


INDEX 


ADVENANT  (Louis),  183 

Ahmers  (Denise),  408 

Aicard  (Jean),  172,  220,  222,  319 

Alexis  (Paul),  372 

Andrews,  343,  344 

Andrieu,  85,  254,  276,  318,  343 

Aneste  (Mile.  Adele),  319 

Arene  (Paul),  155 

Argis  (Henri  d'),  437 

Arrio  (Sergeant),  94 

Asselineau  (Charles),  320 

Auber,  19 

Aubigne  (Agrippa  d'),  56 

Audouard  (Mme.  Olympe),  135 

Aubryet  (Xavier),  no 

Augier  (Emile),  57 

Aulu-Gelle,  370 

Avrecourt  (Abel  d'),  40 

Azam  (Victor),  319 

B 

BABEUF,  25 
Baju  (Anatole),  352 
Balzac,  55,  105,  114 
Banville  (Theodore  de),  55,  no,  115, 

125,  133,  H7,  155,  156,  157,  163, 

170,  195,  219,  319,  369,  407,  408 
Banville  (Mme.  de),  219 

Barbey  d'Aurevilly,  2,  13,  55,  57, 
119,  124,  125,  133,  136,  158,  159, 
160,  IOI,  162,  165,  168,  169,  170, 

171,  3i8,  348,  369 

Barbier    (Auguste),    122,    160,    161, 

162,  172 
Bardey,  229 
Barjau,  315,  318,  319 
Barrere  (Camille),  267,  315,  318,  320 
Barres  (Maurice),  436,  446,  454 
Barthelemy,  122 
Bataille  (Charles),  1 14 
Battur  (Baptiste),  134,  137,  243 
Baudelaire  (Charles),  II,  13,  63,  120, 

121,  124,  126,  157,  162,  336,  376, 

406 


Baudin,  146 

Bauer  (Henry),  308,  369,  370,  372 

Bazire,  140 

Beethoven,  72 

Berezowski,  63 

Bergerat  (Emile),  372 

Berrichon  (Paterne),  230,  437 

Bertaux  (M.  and  Mme.  Leon),  67,  68, 

69,  73,  192,  272 
Berthelier,  67 
Bertrand  (Aloysius),  56 
Blanc  (Louis),  56 
Blanchecotte  (Mme.),  172,  173 
Blanqui  (Auguste),  249,  446 
Ble"mont  (Emile),   78,   96,  97,  220, 

249,  253,  258,  269,  279,  310,  319, 

337,  372,  438 
Boileau,  51,  124 
Bonaparte  (Pierre),  118 
Bonnetain  (Paul),  372,  373 
Borel  (Petrus),  2,  13,  56,  153,  278, 

370 

Boucher,  130 
Boucicaut  (Mme.),  428 
Bouhaier  (Saint-Georges  de)  438 
Bouilhet  (Louis),  53 
Bourguignon  (Jean),  220,  351 
Bouteiller  (Jehan  de),  102,  374,  375 
Boutier  (Ernest),   71,  72,    HI,   154, 

526 
Boyer  (Louis),  381,  386 

(Philoxene),  157 

Bracquemond,  222 
Brasseur,  147 
Brauwer  (Adrien),  47 
Broca  (Commandant),  94 
Bruant  (Aristide),  147,  374 
Buchner  (Dr  Louis),  55,  329,  353 
Busnach  (William),  246 


CABANER,  258 

Cadot,  55 

Calderon  de  la  Barca,  2,  47,  370 

Callias  (Hector  de),  141,  142,  143, 144 

Carjat  (Etienne),  222,  257,  319,  321 


457 


458 


INDEX 


Carriere  (Eugene),  433 

Cazalis  (Henri),  157 

Cazals  (F.-A.),  352,  411,  427,  437, 
446,  454 

Gaze  (Jules),  372 

(Robert),  372,  373 

Cazeaux,  435 

Cazot,  435 

Cervantes  (Michel),  47 

Chabrier  (Emmanuel),  66,  no,  379 

Champfleury,  113 

Chardin,  130 

Charles  IX.,  59 

X.,  86 

Charly,  253,  319 

Charpentier  (Georges),  407,  433 

Chatillon  (Auguste  de),  157,  162 

Chaumette,  146 

Chenier  (Andre),  163,  170 

Chevalier  (Michel),  28 

Chotel,  70,  71 

Cladel  (Leon),  9,  172,  372 

Claimlle,  246 

Claretie  (Jules),  318 

Clerget  (Fernand),  437 

Cochinat  (Victor),  64,  221 

Coleridge,  124 

Collet  (Mme.  Louise),  172 

Collins,  124 

Coppee  (Frangois),  30,  61,  63,  67,  80, 
100,  109,  no,  112,  114,  118,  145, 
147,  150,  153,  154,  157,  158,  162, 
168,  173,  241,  253,  276,  319,  321, 
381,  405,  435,  442,  444,  446,  448 

Coran  (Charles),  157 

Corbiere  (Tristan),  382,  383,  384, 386, 
388 

Cordelois,  139 

Cosnard  (Alexandre),  172 

Courtois,  395 

Courty  (Paul),  318 

Covielle,  162 

Cros  (Charles),  65,  139,  140, 142,  145, 
172,  173,  219,  258 

Cros  (Henri),  145 


DAMIBNS,  59 

Damoye,  408 

Dane,  394-402 

Darcet,  75 

Darzens  (Rodolphe),  230 

Daubray,  71 

Daudet  (Alphonse),  155,  248,  370 

Dehee  (Family),  74,96,  135,  187,  188, 

209,  338  340, 
Delacroix  (Eugene),  57 
Delahaye  (Ernest),  214,  346,  454 


Delescluze  (Charles),  146, 199 

Delibere  (Leo),  65 

Deltour,  39,  41,  42 

Dentu,  269,  362 

De  Foot,  225 

Desbordes  -  Valmore  (Mme.   Marce- 

line),  33,  40,  122,  204,  333,  367, 

382,  385,  386,  422 
Descartes,  56 
Deschamps  (Antony),  157,  161,  162 

(Emile),  157,  162 

(Leon),  438 

Des  Essarts  (Alfred),  172 

(Emmanuel),  157,  319 

Desfoux,  147 

Des  Gachons  (Jacques),  438 

Des  Perrieres  (Carle),  32 

Destailleurs,  40 

Destutt  de  Tracy,  154 

Desvaux  (A.),  437 

Deves,  106 

Devoluy  (Pierre),  438 

Dickens  (Charles),  56,  322,  379 

Dierx  (Leon),  30,  141,  145,  150,  153, 

157,  162,  168,  319,  344,  454,  455 
Dogny  (Abbe),  349 
Dommartin  (Louis),  318 
Donos  (Charles),  241,  440 
Drouet  (Mme.),  116 
Dubacq,  318 
Dubarry  (Mme.),  130 
Du  Boys  (Jean),  155 
Dubrujeaud  (Albert),  372 
Ducloux,  40 
Ducornet  (Cesar),  243 
Dujardin,    15,   51,  54,  74,  96,   209, 

340,  352 

Dumas  (Alexandre),  64,  427 
Dumas fils  (Alexandre),  273 
Dumont,  145 

Dumoulin  (Louis),  388,  455 
Du  Plessys  (Maurice),  352 
Dupont  (Pierre),  119 
Durand,  58 
Durocher  (L£on),  438 
Duruy,  80 


EcoNOMiDfes,  253 

Edison,  140 

Elisa  (Cousin),  34,  177 

Elzear   (Pierre,    Bonnier  •  Ortolan), 

220,  319 

Engel  (Emile),  408 
Enne  (Francis),  372 
Esther  (Mile.),  352,  432,  439 
Evrard  (Widow),  26,  265 


INDEX 


459 


FANTIN-LATOUR,  220,  261,  319 

Fasquelle,  81 

Fauche,  56 

Faure  (Achilla),  109 

(Felix),  229 

Faure,  446 

Ferry  (Jules),  199 

Fertiault,  157 

Feuerbach,  353 

Feuillet  (Octave),  57 

Fevre  (Henri),  372 

Flaubert  (Gustave),  347 

Floquet  (Charles),  101,  103,  104,374, 

392 

Flourens  (Gustave),  146 
Forain,  222,  258,  319 
Forni  (Jules),  157 
Fort  (Paul),  408 
Fortune,  35 

Foucher  (Paul),  201,  319 
Fourier,  42 
Fragonard,  130 

France  (Anatole),  109,  145,  172,  319 
France  (Hector),  372 
Frances,  145 
Franck  (Paul),  408 
Frederic  Charles  (Prince),  198 
Frigard,  63 
Fulvio,  63 


GAILLARD  (M.  and  Mme.),  140 
Gambetta  (Leon),  107,  133,  146 
Ganesco  (Gregory),  136,  159 
Gauguain,  408 

Gaume  (Mgr.),  323,  33*.  333,  336 
Gautier    (Theophile),    55,   87,    157, 

158,  162,  163,  248,  406 
Gaveau,  264 
Gay  (Suzanne),  408 
Gerard  (Lucy),  408 
Gilbert,  5,  425,  441 
Gill  (Andre),  215,  321 
Gil-Perez,  147 
Gineste  (Raoul),  438 
Girault  (Albert),  408 
Glatigny  (Albert),  9,  55,  277 
Gcemare  (Henri),  364 
Goethe,  56,  87,  127 
Goncourt   (Edmond    de),    no,    112, 

130 

(Jules  de),  58,  130 

Gongora,  2 
Gossec,  380 
Gouzien  (Armand),  320 
Grandin  (Albert),  438 


Grandjean  (Widow),  26,  45,  209,  266 

Grandmaison,  410, 

Grassot,  68 

Gravillon  (Arthur  de),  273 

Grenier  (Edouard),  172 

Greuze,  130 

Grisar  (Albert),  19 

Guerreau,  318 

Guimard,  130 

Gullerton  (Lady),  322 

Guy,  78,  79 

Guyot-Sionnest,  376 


H 


HACHETTE,  322 

Hafiz,  87 

Hans  (Ludovic),  318 

Harlay  (Mme.  Sophie),  437 

Harpignies,  261 

Haussmann  (Baron),  78 

Haydn,  72 

Hayem,  40 

Hebert,  159 

Heine  (Henri),  53 

Herbault,  43,  346 

Heredia  (Jose'-Maria  de),  no,  157, 
161,  168,  178,  319,  381,  435. 

Herissey,  364,  408 

Herv6,  65,  247 

Hervilly  (Ernest  d'),  220 

Heugel,  40 

Hiolle  (Mile.),  53,  '80 

Houin  (Ch.),  220 

Houssaye  (Arsene),  157,  162 

Hugo  (Victor),  2,  20,  35,  50,  55,  56, 
57,  no,  114,  115,  116,  117,  118, 
119,  122,  123,  125,  160,  162,  163, 
164,  165,  168,  170,  204,  214,  219, 
253,  288,  289,  299,  310,  319,  359, 
378,  379,  380,  45i>  455 

(Mme.  Victor),  117 

(Fran?ois- Victor),  116 

(Leopoldine),  359 

Humbert  (Dr),  40 

(Mme.  Alphonse,  Mile.  Laure 

Lepelletier),  98,  310,  321 

Huot  (Henri),  408 

I 

IBSEN,  384 

Isambard  (Georges),  213,  214 
Istace,  257,  317,  348 


JEUNESSE  (Antony),  40 
Joliet  (Charles),  80 
Jouaust,  6 1 


460 


INDEX 


KAHN  (Gustave),  438,  452 

Klootz  (Anacharsis),  146 

Knief  (Nicolas),  212 

Knock  (William),  318 

Krantz  (Mile.    Eugenie),   352,   432, 

439-441,  444 
Krauss,  408 


LACHAUD,  269 

Ladmirault  (General),  270,  307 

Lafenestre  (Georges),  78,  172 

Laforgue,  382 

Lamartine,  122,  124,  160,  161,  162, 

168,  416 

Lambert  de  Poissy,  198,  199 
Lancret,  130 
Landeck,  254 
Landry,  35,  43 
Lapparent  (C.  de),  35 
Laprade  (Victor  de),  123,  172 
Lassailly,  153 
Lassimonne,  378 
Lassouche,  147 
Leblond  (Maurice),  438 
Lechevalier,  274,  275 
Leconte  de  1'Isle,  55,  79,   112,  114, 

115,  123,  156,  157,  163-169,  172, 

173,  178,  I9S»  243,  316,  317,  319, 

381,  406,  436,  451 
Lefebure  (Eugene),  157 
Lefevre  (Ernest),  318 
Lemerre  (Alphonse),  61,  71,  81,  112, 

114,  131,  135,  154,  155,  156,  160, 

172,  173,  174,  I95>  202,  203,  221, 

240,241,269,316,  3i7,3i9>38i 
Lemoyne  (Andre),  157 
Lepelletier  (Family),  54 
Lesperut  (Baron  de),  40 
Letinois    (Lucien),    352  -  354,     356- 

36i,  377,  390,  391,  427 
(M.  and  Mme.),  352,  356-358, 

360,  393,  400 
Levallois  (Jules),  318 
Leygues  (Georges),  453 
Lhermitte  (Maurice),  308 
Ligour  (C.),  294,  295 
Lissagaray,  199,  246,  249,  276,  298, 

315,  343 

Lockroy  (Edouard),  131,  307 
Lope  de  Vega,  56 
Louis- Phillippe,  86,  254 
Luque,  386 

Luzarche  (Robert),  157 
Lys  (Georges  de)  438 


M 


MACMAHON     (Marechal    de),    198, 

199,  307 

MacNab,  68 

Maeterlinck  (Maurice),  8 

Mahalin  (Paul),  318 

Maine  de  Biran,  154 

Maistre  (Joseph  de),  57 

Maitre,  319 

Maizeroy  (Rene),  372 

Makonnen  (the  Ras),  229 

Malfilatre,  5,  441 

Malherbe,  451 

Mallarme  (Stephane),  79,  146,  157, 
319,  348,  383-386,  388,  408,  450, 
454 

Manet  (Edouard),  261 

Manoury  (Marquise  de),  197 

Manuel  (Eugene),  172 

Marat,  25 

Marc  (Gabriel),  172 

Marcel  (Etienne),  37,  59 

Maret  (Henri),  199 

Marlowe,  370 

Martin  (Alexis),  157 

(Henri),  56 

Marty- Lavaux,  155 

Marzoli,  40 

Mathilde  (Little),  21 

(Princess),  113 

Matusziewicz,  246 

Maupassant  (Guy  de),  370 

Maute  de  Fleurville  (M.  and  Mme.), 
69,  73,  184,  189,  192,  194,  195, 
197,  201,  210,  211,  218,  219,  239, 
255,  257,  259,  264,  265,  276,  290- 
292,  313,  3H,  334,  354,  368,  372, 

Maygrier  (Raymond),  438 

Meillet  (Leo),  86 

Menken  (Miss  Ada),  64 

Melvil-Bloncourt,  167 

Menard  (Louis),  157 

Mendelssohn,  336 

Mendes  (Catulle),  80,   108,  135,  141, 

145,  147,  155,  158,  160,  161,  162, 

319,  408,  416,  446,  450 
Menelik,  229 
Merat  (Albert),   78,    100,  135,  137, 

145,  J53>  157,  162,  178,  223,  276, 

319,  32i 

Merrill  (Stuart),  438 
Messein,  62 
Metra  (Olivier),  246 
Meurice  (Paul),  116,  135,  156,  318 
Michaelis,  384 
Michel  (Louise),  201 
Michel  de  1'Hay  (Penutet),  222 


INDEX 


461 


Michelet,  56 
Millaud  (Albert).  40 
Minjard  (Pere),  57 
Miot-Frochot,  106 
Mithouard  ( Adrian),  438 
Moessard,  243 
Moleschott,  353 
Moliere,  407 
Monet  (Claude),  261 
Monnantheuil,  253 
Monsabre  (Pere),  57 
Monselet  (Charles),  318 
Montesquieu,  436,  446 
Montluc,  56 
Moreas  (Jean),  437 
Moreau,  130 

(Hegesippe),  42,  122,  425 

Moreno  (Mme.),  408 
Morin-Miron  (Saturnin),  107 
Mozart,  72 

Musset  (Alfred  de),    122,   125,   160, 
161,  205,  304,  407,  455 


N 


NAPOLEON  I.,  in 

III.,  86,  in,  140 

Naquet  (Alfred),  233 

Natanson,  454 

Nattier,  130 

Nertann,  71 

Nicole,  56 

Nina  de  Callias  (Nina  de  Villars, 
Mme.),  65,  135,  137,  138,  139,  140, 
141,  142,  144,  145,  147,  149,  150, 
156,  161,  172,  173,  181,  184,  197, 
221,  319,  405 

Noir  (Victor),  118 

Nouveau  (Germain),  348,  381 


ODGER  (Georges),  249 
Offenbach  (Jacques),  65 
Oliveira  (Arthur  de),  253,  319 
Ossian,  164 
Oswald,  246 
Oudet,  254 


PABLO  MARIA  DE  HERLANEZ,  246, 

3i7 

Paladilhe,  253 
Palma  Cayet,  56 

Palme  (Victor),  81,  359,  362-364,  386 
Parade,  71 
Pascal,  303,  304 
Pasdeloup,  72 


Pauvre  Lelian,  6,  385,  386,  403,  422, 

449 

Pecrus,  68 
Pegomas,  61,  62 
Pelletan  (Camille),  258 
Penquer  (Mme.  Augusta),  172,  173 
Percepied,  in 
Pereire,  28 
Peretti  (Sergeant),  94 
Perrens,  37 

Peyrouton  (Abel),  146,  199 
Philarete  Chasles,  56 
Philomene  Boudin  (Mme.),  352,  432, 

439,  440 

Pichat  (Laurent),  172 
Piedagnel  (Alexandre),  157 
Pilodo,  19 

Pipe-en-Boisi(Cavalier),  112,  113 
Poe  (Edgar),  9,  274,  366,  408 
Polin,  147 

Pommier  (Amedee),  160,  161 
Ponsard,  56,  156 
Popelin  (Claudius),  172 
Porchat  (Jacques),  126 
Poulet-Malassis,  55,  246 
Pradelle  (Gustave),  172 
Priston,  71 
Privas  (Xavier),  438 
Proudhon,  56 


QUENTIN  (Charles),  199 


RACHILDE  (Mme.),  437 

Racine,  39,  40,  214,  451 

Racot  (Adolphe),  107 

Rasetti  (Ernest),  114 

Raynaud  (Ernest),  438 

Redon  (Jean  de),  243 

Regamey  (Felix),  222,  244,  254,  319 

Rembrandt,  274 

Remington,  345 

Renan  (Ary),  437 

(Ernest),  167 

Renaud  (Armand),  78,  100,  157 

Rette  (Adolphe),  43» 

Revillon  (Ferdinand),  146 

Rey  (Henri),  172 

Ricard  (Louis  -  Xavier  de),  30,  61, 
106,  107,  in,  112,  150,  154,  157, 
158,  159,  160,  161,  162,  174,  320, 

(General- Marquis  de),  106 

(Marquise   de),    107,  108,   109, 

149,  156,  161,  181 


462 


INDEX 


Richard  (Emile),  88,  89,  91,  92,  93, 
146 

Richelot  (Dr),  40 

Richepin  (Jean),  221 

Rigault  (Raoul),  85,  133,  146 

Rigot-Oudin  (M.    and  Mme.),  402 

Rimbaud  (Arthur),  10,  n,  1 6,  17, 
150,  211-232,  235-238,  240-242, 
251,  252,  257,  258-260,  262-264, 
270,  275,  280-287,  291-295,  301, 
315,  326,  336,  352,  383,  386,  388, 
391 

(Mile.  Isabelle),  230 

(Mme.),  251,  257,  258 

Robinot-Bertrand,  172 

Rochefort  (Henri),  78,  135,  139,  140 

Rodin  (Auguste),  454 

Rolland  (E.),  342 

Rollin,  414 

Ronsard,  155,  451 

Roqueplan  (Nestor),  53 

Rose  (Mme.),  414 

Rothschild  (James  de),  40 

(Nathaniel  de),  40 

Roujon  (Henry),  445 

Rousseau  (Jean-Jacques),  55 

Rousset  (Camille),  39,  49 

Royer  (Eugene),  349 


SAINT- AUBIN,  130 

Sainte-Beuve  (Joseph  Delorme),  35, 
55»  56,  117,  H9,  120,  121,  155, 
160,  161,  162,  172,  204,  367,  369 

Saint-Hubert,  130 

Saint- Pol  Roux,  27 

Saint- Victor  (Paul  de),  no 

Saisset  (Emile),  56 

Salles  (Louis),  172 

Samary  (Jean),  146 

Sand  (George),  53,  367 

Savine  (Albert),  81 

Scholl  (Aurelien),  370 

Scribe,  53,  57,  156 

Segard  (Achille),  438 

Sepet  (Marius),  40 

Serstevens,  294,  295 

Shakespeare,  40,    52,   56,  321,  334, 

384 

Siefert  (Mme.  Louisa),  172,  173 
Signoret,  438 

Silvestre,  80,  100,  168,  172,  318 
Silvio  Pellico,  301 
Simon  (Jules),  56 
Simond    (Valentin),  270,   308,    370, 

371,  392 
Sivry  (Charles  de),  65,  66,  67,  95, 

1 10,  134,  136,  141,  145,  184,  187- 


193,  239,  251,  257,  273,  319,  445, 

446 

Soulary  (Josephin),  172 
Spiers,  38,  39 
Stapfer  (Paul),  40 
Stendhal,  57 
Stock  (Victor),  362 
Sully-Prudhomme,  109,  157,  168 
Swinburne,  315 


TAINE,  56 

Tailhade  (Laurent),  437 

Tailhede  (Raymond  de  la),  438, 

Tapret  (Dr),  430,  431 

Tassin,  77 

Tauchnitz,  322 

Tellier(  Jules),  437 

Tesson  (Francis),  157 

Thackeray,  56 

Theuriet  (Andre),  172 

Thiers,  84,  85,  86,   210,  274,  307 

Thomas  de  Colmar  (Due  de  Boiano), 

75 

Toinon,  131,  202 
Tresse  (Widow),  362  ' 
Trezenik  (Leo),  382 
Trochu,  83 

U 

UZANNE  (Joseph),  354 


V 


VACQUERIE  (Auguste),  39,  57,  157, 

162,  318 

Valabregue  (Antony),  172,  319 
Valade  (Leon),   78,    100,    145,   153, 

157,  201,   220,  222,    258,  276,  3IO, 
319 

Valles  (Jules),  247,  372 

Vallette  (Alfred),  454 

Vally,  423,  424 

Vanier  (Leon),  6,  62,  81,  82,  246, 
299,  365,  38o,  382,  386,  390,  393, 
404,  408,  411,  412,  415,  416,  419, 
421-424,  426,  428,  434,  437,  445- 

453 

Van  Ostade,  46 
Vassy  (Gaston),  372 
Vaulabelle,  56 
Verlaine  (Capitaine),    19,  20,  23,  25, 

26,  28,  29,    31,    32,  34,    36,  53, 

54,  75,  127,  177 
Verlaine  (Georges),  34,  209,  225,  255, 

259,  354,  356,  414,  442,  443)  445, 
446 


INDEX 


463 


Verlaine  (Mme.  Paul,  Mile.  Mathilda 
Maute,  Mme.  Delporte),  69,  87,  88, 
9i,  93,  96,  97,  179,  183-198,  200- 

204,  208,    210,  211,  2l8,   230,    232- 

235,  237-242,  251,  255,  257,  262- 

265,  267-273,  281-283,  286-292, 
305,  306,  313,  314,  3i8,  330,  335, 
354,  368,  441,  442 

Verlaine  (Mme.,  Widow),  19,  27,  28, 
29,  30,  3i,  32,  33,  36,  54,  9i,  98, 
177,  192,  193,  194,  233,  239,  257, 
259,  260,  262-264,  266,  270,  280, 
281-286,  289,  291-293,  298,  301, 
308-311,  313,  315,  321,  331,  338, 
339,  343,  344,  345,  357,  358,  364, 
366,  387,  388,  390,  391,  393-403 

Vermersch,  244,  248,  249,  276,  277, 
278,  318,  343,  406 

Vernhes,  40 

Vesinier,  254 

Vicaire  (Gabriel),  437 

Viele-Griffin,  382 

Vigny  (Alfred  de),  123,  160,  161,  277, 
406 


Villemain,  56 

(Eugene),  157 

Villemessant  (H.  de),  141,  370 
Villiers  de  1'Isle-Adam  (Auguste),  13, 

109,  145,  157,  319,  383,  384,  386, 

422 
Villon,  (Fra^ois),  6,  7,  8,  9,  42,  349, 

.447 

Vinoy  (General),  450 
Viotti  (Lucien),  15,  64,  65,  136,  352, 

377'378       w 

WAGNER  (Richard),  162 
Watteau,  130 
Winter  (Henry),  157 
Woinez,  133,  135,  137 
Wordsworth,  124 


XAU,  430 


YRIARTE(Ch.), 


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